


Whispers & Bullets Part 2: Search and Destroy

by Mastorya



Series: Whispers & Bullets [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Drinking, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Withdrawal, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Graphic Description, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Love, Male-Female Friendship, POV Male Character, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Sex, Sexual Violence, Smut, Suicide Attempt, Unrequited Love, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21635089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mastorya/pseuds/Mastorya
Summary: MacCready and Gwendolyn's partnership is brought to an abrupt close following the vault dweller's disappearance. Whatever happened within the confines of the Institute had brought the once strong woman to her knees, breaking her psyche and rendering her irrational. With Deacon's help, the hired gun gathers that a fugitive Gwen had made her way into Nuka World, a nebulous amusement park linked to dangerous raider gangs.
Relationships: Porter Gage/Female Sole Survivor, Robert Joseph MacCready/Female Sole Survivor
Series: Whispers & Bullets [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1224629
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	1. Hunting Shadows

“Deacon, what do you mean you’re not coming?”, hissed MacCready through his clenched teeth.

“Buddy, listen,” the spy tried to diffuse the angered mercenary, only spurring his interlocutor into even more fury.

“No you listen, you damn spy!” MacCready interrupted him. “You said you would find her and bring her back home with me and now you’re backing off like a wimp! Don’t you care about Gwen anymore now that she got you whatever your pack needed from the Institute?!”

“Okay, that was really uncalled for, MacCready. It's not about me and how much I care for that mad cat. And God knows how much I do. I can’t just leave the Commonwealth whenever I want unlike you. Things are heating up with the Brotherhood trying to sniff the Railroad out, you should know. I did all I could, found her trail, got you here and even a team member to help you out. I'm not giving up the search, I'm trusting you with it. Whenever I can, I’ll make my way over to Nuka-World to join back up with you, alright? Won’t you give this old spy a bit more credit?”

MacCready huffed out in pure frustration. Sure, Deacon had used his Railroad connections to obtain information on Gwendolyn’s whereabouts. Sure, he had gotten him to the Nuka-World Transit Station in one piece even though the mercenary knew for a fact that he could have made the trek by himself. But for him to give up on Gwen this easily when they were so close to their goal… And of course there was the issue of the new “team member”. What the hell was the spy thinking, trying to match him with that thing!

The elephant in the room shifted their weight, growing more and more impatient as the heated conversation went on. MacCready eyed it with equal amounts of fear and aggression. There was no way he would go on Gwendolyn’s trail with that at his back. He even imagined it plotting the best way to dissect his body parts for a late night meal.

“Give him a chance,” pressed Deacon. “He actually has a lot of respect for you. You probably wouldn’t want to disappoint him by letting him down now, right?”

To appeal to his honour like that… That was a low blow, even for the spy. MacCready looked at his feet nervously, trying to think up a way to weasel out of the partnership he found himself thrusted into. To make his way through the desert in-between himself and his estranged partner, he would probably need fire support, yes, but not like this!

“Strong bored! Want to smash things!” screamed the super mutant, putting a stop to Deacon and MacCready’s unending arguments. The spy turned towards the beast, his hands above his head to appease it.

“I know, big guy, I know,” lulled Deacon in an attempt to calm the hungering mutant by his side. “You’ll be able to smash tons of things in a moment. You know MacCready, right? You’re going to accompany him, yes?”

“Yes. Know Mack Ree Dee. This human good fighter. Almost as good as Strong.”

Deacon turned back to the mercenary, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “See? You boys are bonding already! Alright, enough dawdling, you both better get going. It’s going to be a long road ahead of you, considering that the monorail isn’t functional right now. Just follow the rails, you’ll do just fine.” Satisfied, the spy stormed off, falling into a sprint to escape the mercenary. 

“Wait! Deacon, wait!” implored MacCready. But it was too late. Deacon had already disappeared from view.  _ The old man can still really run when he wants to… Or wait did he pop a Stealth Boy. Ugh, that no good spy! _

He pressed both of his hand onto his hat in disbelief at his situation then spun on his heel to face the super mutant. Strong was obediently waiting for their departure despite balling and releasing his fists in annoyance.  _ So this is seriously happening? I’m just gonna play buddy buddy with a freaking Super Mutant? What a damn crazy life this is… _

“Alright Strong. Let’s go,” he gestured for the mutant to follow in his steps, his shoulders slumped in defeat. To his surprise, Strong fell in behind him without protest, matching his pace in slow, lumbering steps.

The two of them were within an open air compound lined with concrete constructions and multi-coloured bottle effigies of various sizes. Only one building around them, the aforementioned transit station normally housing the currently missing monorail, wasn’t solely made of sterile mortar but instead also adorned of lit up neon signs. If only the transport car was usable, they could be entering Nuka-World proper within the next few hours. But no, fate had to make this all the more difficult on them, forcing the mercenary and the mutant into the desolate landscape encompassed by tall mountains that the rail snaked through. The newly formed pair made their way around the lit structure and entered the desert beyond.

MacCready kept looking over his shoulder at the super mutant following him. His green companion terrified him to his core. How Gwendolyn even got the unwavering loyalty of such a beast escaped him entirely and with nothing to occupy his mind as they walked through the desert, he let his mouth run despite himself.

“So, Strong… Why is Gwen your leader?”

“Goo-wen good leader. Saved Strong from bad leader Fist,” grunted the mutant.

“Ah, okay, that sounds like her alright,” mused the young man.  _ She would definitely be crazy enough to save a super mutant… _

“Strong respect Goo-wen.”

“That’s good, big buddy, that’s good…” 

The mutant cackled. “Goo-wen let Strong smash a lot. Smash all enemies!”

Not knowing what to add to such a passionately violent statement, MacCready let silence settle between the two, instead concentrating on the road ahead. 

***********************************

The sun scorched the desert floor, the flaming orb at its apex as midday rolled around. MacCready was forced to strip his shoulders of the leather jacket Gwendolyn had gifted him back on the Prydwen to stave off some of the intense heat that assaulted all of his senses. Fortunately, the desolated land had refrained from spitting out its wildlife at the unlikely duo. It let MacCready observe the mutant whom had decided to take point, showing his back to him. The giant wore metal scraps welded together into a shoddy chest plastron over some cloth shorts reinforced with metal plating. Strong had a rocket-powered sledgehammer in hand and a minigun strapped to his hip along with numerous ammunition belts criss-crossing his entire width. It was what a typical super mutant would be wielding within the ruins of Boston. The sight was somewhat surreal to the mercenary. To be in the vicinity of a super mutant without him being in very real danger…  _ The world must have fallen on its head _ , he thought. For a mutant to be helping his search efforts for his lost lover was more than he could have ever imagined. 

Strong sent a cautious stare towards MacCready over his shoulder, somehow aware of the intense scrutiny he was a victim to. The beast’s green beady eyes bore into his lithe frame. It made the mercenary terribly self-aware of his declining physical health, his body fat falling into alarmingly low percentages. The two months long ordeal of waiting and wondering had taken its toll on him to the point that all of Gwendolyn’s companions had tried to reason with him. Both Nick and Cait had tried- and failed- to get him back on his feet again, the synth by offering a sympathetic ear he adamantly refused, the hot-headed woman by offering different opportunities to flex his competitive muscle he didn’t have the heart to participate in. Preston, in spite of their previous animosity towards each other, had been willing to join him in Sanctuary’s bar over beers. Piper and Curie eventually joined forces to bolster his spirits with lengthy conversations to take his mind off Gwendolyn’s disappearance to no avail. Codsworth, the great butler he was, had been delivering a steady supply of Sugar Bombs to his private room, an attempt at smoothing the young man’s temper. In all honesty, everyone in Sanctuary felt lost after discovering Gwendolyn’s care packages at the settlement’s entrance sign, not just himself. While everyone tried their best to remain positive, Paladin Danse had the most out of character reaction of them all, deciding to simply leave the settlement behind, his head hung low as if ashamed of the events that had transpired. The Brotherhood soldier had simply pocketed the holotape left behind for him and exited the commune in silence. MacCready had expected him to mount a search team immediately, to be the first on Gwendolyn’s tail, not for the hulking man in Power Armor to sulk and abandon his post. 

He also had not expected that Deacon would have been the only one to refuse to sugar coat the truth for the young man, letting him know of the dangers he would be exposing himself to if he tried to follow Gwendolyn. Apart from the monstrous wildlife and the bloodthirsty raiders now known to be connected to Nuka-World, Deacon had made a point of making sure MacCready would be aware of all the intel he had amassed over the course of his investigation. It seemed that the pre-war amusement park was a hub of merchant activities on one hand, while, on the other, nobody ever got news of said traders once they had supposedly arrived at their destination. The spy had said that the whole deal smelled rotten to its core though he wasn't sure who to blame for it. Was this the work of the colourful raiders he and Robert had fought in the past or was something even more nefarious afoot? While unsettled at first, MacCready was determined to see this adventure to its end, whether it be in a shallow grave or back in Gwendolyn's arms. He owed her that much.

Something he had dreaded the moment Gwendolyn had left his sight, however, was John Hancock’s rage. Their relationship, sympathetic at first, had devolved into a strained mess of jealousy and suffocating protectiveness for the woman. Hancock had made it abundantly clear that his intentions towards Gwendolyn were more than friendly, the ghoul seeking a relationship with her. Unfortunately for him, he had to renounce the chase, Gwen's heart having been capture by MacCready. The news of their budding romance had spread like wildfire within Sanctuary during the days following the woman's incursion into the Institute, to Hancock's dismay. The mercenary didn't know who had been the whistleblower in the whole affair and, frankly, didn't care enough to find out. His mind was focused on her alone, not on what meddling gossipers had to say about it all. Only Mayor Hancock's eventual reactions worried MacCready, the ghoul's sanity dwindling in the midst of his separation from Gwen. Was he turning feral? It sure seemed like it with his constant chem breaks, midnight prowls throughout the Wasteland and irritable moods. The one-sided love affair had taken a dirty, ugly hold on Hancock.

The day of Gwendolyn's disappearance, the ghoul had remained unusually low profile, making himself scarce until MacCready stumbled onto him taking a hit of Psychojet on the hill overlooking Sanctuary. At the sight of him, the ghoul’s black irises had shot him the most threatening stare of all. They both observed the other, Hancock fury incarnate, MacCready apologetic. After what had felt like hours, the ghoul leapt to his feet to body slam the mercenary, teeth bared. He let the mayor assault him, enduring the punches thrown at his head with no retaliation. Hancock kept up the violence coupled with growls and curses, pounding his anguish into MacCready who remained motionless. He deserved his vengeance for letting Gwendolyn run away on them. He deserved his fury for failing to protect her from a world hell-bent on tearing her apart. He deserved his hysteria for being unable to rescue the woman at a moment’s notice, having to rely on a shifty spy to get any scrap of information on her whereabouts. At some point, Hancock slowed down his fists that were now coated in MacCready’s blood, having broken the mercenary’s nose. The ghoul panted, winded from his deranged yells, charcoal eyes planted into his victim’s blues. Only then did Cait run at them, snatching Hancock off MacCready’s torso with force, screaming obscenities at the ghoul. The young man, comparatively, had been helped up to his feet by an alarmed Curie. “Monsieur MacCready,” she had said to him. “Your nose! We need to treat it immédiatement,” she followed in her typical French accent. He didn’t really care if his nose was to be deformed for the rest of his miserable life. His existence felt too hollow for him to even worry about his looks.  _ What would Gwendolyn think of me now _ , he remembered chastising himself. At the time, he was a shadow of his former self and it had taken several weeks for him to get back on his feet.

Sand encroached every inch of his being as a sandstorm took hold of the region, blocking the view of the rails leading them to their goal in an impenetrable veil. MacCready covered his face as much as he could by lowering the brim of his hat.

“Strong,” he howlered to his companion. “We have to stop and let the storm pass by! Do you see anywhere we can settle in?”

The mutant laughed. “Puny human afraid of sand!”

“Come on big guy! We’ll just get lost at this rate.”

“Ok, Mack Ree Dee. Hide in cave on the right,” Strong pointed out.

They both sprinted towards a cavern entrance sighted to the north-east. MacCready made sure to note how many paces they had strayed from their original path. He refused to get lost in the expansive desert because of some gales of wind and some coarse sand.

Strong entered the cave first, followed by MacCready lighting their way with a shoddy lantern he lit with his pocket lighter. The rocky depression was cool and dry, perfect for them to hunker down into for a while. MacCready deposited his lantern on the ground to enable him to discard his heavy backpack. Strong, on the other hand, stayed on his feet, surveying their surroundings then shot a look towards the mercenary followed with a positive grunt. If the mutant gave it his seal of approval, the location had to be secure, right? Well, not really, but MacCready was eager to sit down and try to relax his taxed shoulders.

Some time passed him by, each minute punctuated by a drag on his cigarette. Lazy smoke escaped his throat with each breath until he decided to question his super mutant companion some more.

"You said that Gwen saved you, right, Strong? What happened for you to need help?"

The mutant snarled, annoyed at the question. "Fist capture human Rex. Rex speak of Mack Beth and milk of human kindness. Strong decide to find milk but Fist not want to let Strong find milk! Was put in same cage as Rex. Goo-wen come to save Rex but help Strong too. Said she would find milk with Strong."

MacCready cocked a quizzical brow. "Milk of human kindness? What's that supposed to be?"

Strong turned to stare at him, a rictus on his lips. "Is what make humans stronger than super mutant. If Strong find milk and drink, will be stronger than humans!"

"Oh okay…"  _ Yeah, I've no clue what he's talking about… _

"What about Mack Ree Dee? Why with Goo-wen? Goo-wen also leader?" The super mutant's question was surprising to say the least. Robert didnt think Strong interested in anything but smashing- and that ominous milk liquid.

"She saved me too, in a way," the mercenary reminisced. "Got me out of trouble more than once and even did the impossible happen… Gotta agree with you Strong. She  _ is  _ a good leader."

"Yes!" exclaimed the mutant. "Yes, Goo-wen good leader! Strong happy that Goo-wen is new leader."

"I'm glad to hear that," he offered in response.

Silence evelopped the two yet again, only being disturbed by Strong's grunts and sniffles. MacCready couldn't help but stay on guard despite himself due to the mutant's presence. Obviously, if the beast wanted him dead, he would have been snapped in two like a dried up twig by now. Still, he was apprehensive at this strange companionship. Making friends with a super mutant… now he had seen everything.

Minutes turned to hours, the sandstorm refusing to let up beyond the cave's entrance. Realizing that the declining sun would usher in the night soon enough, Robert searched his pack for the firewood he had packed before hand, inspired by the incident he had pulled Gwendolyn out of during their first day together in the Glowing Sea. It had taught him to be a bit more prepared in his expeditions. He erected a small campfire to provide both light and warmth for the coming dusk. He pondered as to what he should heat up over the flames only to come to the conclusion that he didn't need food for the moment. A rookie mistake while on the open road but a mistake he made consciously. Hunger still evaded him on most days since Gwen's disappearance.

Strong didn't feel the same revulsion towards sustenance as he sat heavily beside the fire to rip at a slab of raw meat he had pulled from his hip pouch. The mutant ate ravenously, making MacCready gag at the amount of odd liquids and saliva dripping from the beast's mouth. Strong might have been able to speak and think for himself which was more than could be expected from super mutants in general, but he sure did eat like one of his own. The meat consumed, Strong let out a loud belch followed by a content moan.

Trying to escape his companion, MacCready brought his sleeping bag out of his pack, laying it close to the fire to absorb its warmth. He freed his feet from his boots and hid away in the old cloth. Attempting to sleep was futile. he knew, but he tried nonetheless only for his mind to wander into the depths of his psyche.

_ This is is… I'm actually on Gwendolyn's trail. It took way too long but I'm finally on my way to her. I hope she's okay. _

He shifted in his sheets, unable to find comfort as the rocky floor dug into his back through the thin bedroll.

_ I don't know what I would do if she’s not okay. I could return to Duncan empty handed but what would be the point? He's got Scarlet taking care of him. He doesn't need his poor excuse of a father in the picture.  _

"No, you're a good dad, Mac," Gwendolyn would say to ease his sorrows, delicately brushing circles onto his back. "I'm not so sure," he'd answer sheepishly only for her to reach out to him gingerly. She’d bestow upon him a warm and gentle hand on his cheek to attract his eyes to hers. "Give yourself a chance," she'd encourage him. "Gwen… okay… I can try," he'd concede. Those eyes of hers made it so easy to believe in anything...

He scratched at his messy hair, the thick mass clumped in grimy knots due to sweat. Each time he closed his eyes, his mind always went to Gwendolyn, a testament to his appreciation and love for the woman. It was maddening, yes, but MacCready felt that madness was preferable to being numb to it all. At least madness gave him the necessary energy to keep his legs moving throughout the days until their reunion. But madness could easily overpower him, destroy his very being. He couldn't allow himself to fall prey to it both for his sake and Gwendolyn's if she was truly out there somewhere. Each day that passed without her by his side made it more difficult to keep his head above the dark waters of insanity bubbling in his mind, menacing to swallow him whole. His one lifeline had been his belief in her safety. He knew for a fact that Gwen knew how to survive the wastes, knew how to keep herself out of death's embrace. Sure, her track record had a few blemishes here and there, such as her unconscious episode after her first excursion in the Glowing Sea, but that could be the result of any kind of exceptional accident. That's what he had to tell himself. That's what he had to believe.

A loud thud shook MacCready out of his miserable reverie. He peeked his head out of his bedroll only to be greeted by Strong’s fallen form. The mutant was facing away from him. presenting his back in its gigantic glory.  _ How about that. I guess super mutants do need to sleep after all. _ The mutant gave out a sonorous grunt whilst scratching his leg. At first, Robert simply observed the giant, content on staying within his sleeping bag. Then came a blaring alarm in his consciousness. He rose up to his feet to confront his companion.

“Strong, what are you doing?!”

“Strong sleep,” answered the mutant.

“Someone has to stand watch. You can never know when an enemy is going to show up.”

“Human Mack Ree Dee scared?” he snickered.

“No, I’m not. I’m cautious, for once.”

“No enemy to smash so Strong go sleep.”

Baffled by the mutant’s lack of common sense, as if that was something to be surprised about, MacCready hastily laced his boots back on his feet to stand guard.

“Just because there are no enemies now doesn’t mean there won’t be any later. How can I get that through your thick skull!”

Strong retaliated with a ferocious growl. “Shut up little human! Only leader Goo-wen give orders to Strong!” _ Oh calm down, mister mutant, calm down… Better not push his buttons unless I want to become mince meat. We’re off to a  _ great _ start. _

Just like that, the subject was dropped just as abruptly as it had been brought up. The altercation made something terribly clear to MacCready. The coming days would undeniably test his patience to its limits. Its very limited limits. 

The mercenary wondered how Deacon had gotten the super mutant to follow him in the first place. It dawned on him that Gwendolyn had probably been on many quests and ventures with the unsavory spy before he himself had met her. Actually, she had been enjoying everyone’s company for much longer than he had ever known her, considering their commitment to the vault-dweller. He had been the last one to join her rag-tag band, yet he had been the one to snatch her up, to steal her affections. 

No wonder Hancock had grown more and more combative towards him to the point of rending their friendship altogether. “Ain’t gotta worry, brother. Already tried and got turned down. Gwen’s not an easy woman to seduce it seems,” the mayor had told him on his first night as boss and mercenary with her, back in Goodneighbor. How ludicrous for a woman as fantastic as his Gwendolyn to favour  _ him _ , a lowlife, a killer for hire, a nobody, over the undeniable charisma and charm the ghoul flaunted. Hancock desperately wanted her companionship and such an offer came with bountiful perks: an entire town at your beck and call, enough free chems and booze to incapacitate a consortium of Mirelurk Queens, unreasonable power within the entire Commonwealth… A really good deal he had to admit, a deal he would have agreed to if he had been in her position.

A cold breeze filtered through the cave’s entrance, making him shiver. He headed for his pack to pull back out his previously discarded jacket, draping it lazily over his shoulders. Its familiar leathery musk reminded him of that fateful night aboard the Prydwen, the night Gwendolyn had given it to him to replace his beloved tattered duster, that night that had solidified their partnership. He popped its collar to shield himself from another frigid gust, letting the fleece it arboured tickle his cheeks. That night on the Prydwen… it was one of his best memories now, a shelter for his broken heart to latch onto. Succulent deathclaw steaks, the mesmerizing sight of the Commonwealth below them, but most of all the stellar companion at his side… He remembered thinking that he could have taken on the whole world with her by his side and, in a way, they had. They had assaulted Med-Tek and spat on the world’s devious plans, thwarting its efforts to take Duncan’s life. Nothing in MacCready’s existence had been as successful as that day he brought the cure to Daisy. Nothing had made him more proud than to explain how Gwendolyn had been the one to get him through the dreaded pre-war facility. In retrospect, he owed her everything and then some. Gwendolyn, his light in the chaos of the apocalypse, his partner, his lover…

Strong’s heavy snores pulled him out of his memories. MacCready grumbled under his breath at the loss. That one time his mind wasn’t assailing him with anxious nightmares it had to be cut short by a damn super mutant of all things. 

_ Yep… this hike is going to be a long one. _


	2. Strong and Brawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready and Strong continue their long trek towards Nuka-World

The next morning greeted MacCready with its radiant light harassing his stressed features. He had spent the night staving off sand and apprehensions alike, too uncomfortable to surrender himself to sleep in the company of a super mutant. Strong had been as close to respectful as one can expect from his kind but the anxious haze in Robert's mind refused to accept the creature as friendly. Not yet anyways.

Strong rose from the ground, yawning up a storm and shaking off the sand that had accumulated over his body. The beast had slept throughout the entire night without as much as a stir. MacCready envied such complete serenity in a hostile environment. The mercenary could only imagine how being a mighty and powerful beast like Strong could feel like. Invincible, he decided.

“Mack Ree Dee,” growled the super mutant. “We leave now?”

“Yeah, we can leave now, buddy.”

“Strong wish for enemies to smash!”

“You can smash to your heart's content when we find some but stay quiet before that, okay?” attempted MacCready.

“Okay,” the mutant grumbled back.  _ For such a big guy, he sure is docile… _

Back on their feet and ready to depart, the duo stepped back into the fast moving sands of the valley leading to Nuka-World. Despite their haste in finding refuge from the sandstorm, they had fortunately not strayed very far from the rails leading to their destination. It wasn’t long before they were back on Gwendolyn’s tracks.

As they made slow progress in the desolate region, the sky above shone in bright blues completely devoid of clouds, the telltale sign of the blazing weather to come. MacCready grunted at the realization, dreading what such weather would do to his tired body straining under the weight of his pack and responsibilities. The previous night had made it clear that he needed to not only nurse his health, but also babysit the mutant at his side or risk dire consequences. The super mutant wasn’t interested in repelling any form of ambush or attack that could befall them during the night, forcing the young man to pick up the slack to his health’s detriment. He longed for the mutant to respect him soon enough so he’d be allowed to give him orders just like Deacon and Gwen had in the past. It would make the whole deal a lot more enjoyable.

Like the previous day, midday rolled by without any issues, no hostile encounters or environmental hazards impeding their progress. The scalding heat had forced him to strip his torso yet again, exposing his sweat-stained undershirt to the world. What he wouldn’t give for a cool breeze to blow through right now… Strong had remained uncomplaining, setting his eyes on some interesting sight or another in front of them both. 

This search and rescue trial was underwhelming at best. No mercenaries to deal with despite the obvious signs of past Gunner habitation at the Nuka-World Transit Station. No ghouls roaming about. No deathclaws or radscorpions either. Not even a single pack of mongrels to dispatch. The eerie calm gnawed in MacCready’s head, launching his instincts into overdrive. There was truly nothing more terrifying in the wasteland that is this world than undisturbed silence.  _ Something’s not right here… Not right at all. It’s way too quiet. _

“Hey Strong,” he called out to his green companion. “Do you see anything out there? Nothing for you to smash? No?”

“No. No smashing today,” lamented the mutant, lowering his super sledge.

“Are you sure?”

The mutant growled in response.  _ I think that’s a yes. Maybe. _

Still unconvinced, MacCready unclipped the binoculars that always hung at his hip and brought them to his eyes to assess the situation. Scanning the arid terrain ahead, the mercenary spotted a flash of green on the horizon. Curious, he slitted his eyes to gather his focus. Another green dot appeared in his field of view. In an attempt to make the apparition clearer in his vision, he pushed himself up on his toes only to be roughly pulled off the ground.

“Hey! Woah!” MacCready squealed at the sudden manhandling.

Strong, impartial to the young man’s protest, held his body above his head then lowered his companion onto his broad mutated shoulders.

“See better now.”

Insulted beyond belief, MacCready pouted at his super mutant perch. “Jesus, give me a heads up if you’re gonna pick me up like that!”

Undeterred, the mutant only shrugged, making his passenger kilter of balance. Robert held onto Strong’s massive head until he felt himself stable enough to resume his observations.

Binoculars back on his eyes, he had to admit that he did see a lot farther and clearer over the many dunes ahead, forcing an annoyed sigh from his lips. It wasn’t enough that he was stressed beyond belief by his menacing super mutant travel companion, now he was also complexed over his small stature.  _ Today can’t get any better now.  _ But better it would become.

The green shapes he had identified turned out to be the bald domes of a group of super mutants, each sporting menacing spikes and other metallic protuberances on their armoured shoulders. He counted at least five hostiles amassed around a crashed vertibird that served as a burrow. The airship had been painted red with gore and body parts, its rotors embellished with oozing gore bags. MacCready gagged at the sight, unable to get accustomed to super mutant home design in spite of his many years as marksman. He tapped his foot to alert his living watchtower.

“There’s a super mutant group up ahead, maybe five or six strong. You feeling up for some smashing?”

“Ba ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha,” bellowed his companion. “Strong want to hear them die!”

“No, no, no. Strong, calm down!”

His plea fell on mute ears as the mutant jumped into gear. MacCready fell off his shoulder only for his backpack and boots to cling onto Strong’s metal backplate. Blood rushed to his head as he hung upside down, his torso slamming helplessly into the running mutant, bruising his spine. Realization followed by stunned stupor struck him, his eyes wide in panic and his arms dangling lifelessly at the side of his head. Strong chanted incantations of doom at his kin, running full speed ahead towards them.  _ Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT! _

Anger flowed through his veins, breaking his anxious paralysis, boiling his blood. MacCready curled his torso upwards in an attempt at reaching the combat knife he had tightly strapped to his left thigh. Even through the rough roll of Strong’s jogging body, his backpack stayed firmly latched onto the mutant’s armour, giving the young man no choice but to cut himself free. The tip of his calloused fingers brushed the knife’s hilt once, then twice until he lost all hopes of reaching the damn thing. His body flung to the right, then the left, slamming his head onto Strong’s armour, stars and darkness enveloping the corners of his vision with each blow. Desperate for the assault to come to a close, he shrieked, hoping it would make Strong pause for thought. The super mutant only roared in response, too preoccupied by his blood lust to use whatever was left of his mutated brain to comprehend the situation. 

MacCready’s veins pounded against his skull, his entire head throbbing from the deluge of humors it had to endure. Maybe it was all that liquid, or maybe it was the dire situation he found himself in, but a wild idea took control of his thrashing. He flung his arms to the back of his shoulders, pawing around for his sniper rifle. He grabbed onto its elongated muzzle and pulled as hard as his weakened body would allow, miraculously dislodging it from between his pack and Strong’s armour plating. Making sure to get a strong grip on the firearm, he pulled it out from behind him and onto his chest. By the time he declared the operation a success, he found himself in the midst of the super mutant burrow, Strong violently swinging his super sledge at incoming enemies. Upside down and breathless, MacCready swung along with his mutated companion’s movements, struggling to come up with a solution to his predicament.

Super mutants roared to counter Strong’s own voice and spread out around the invading enemy. MacCready, feeling himself losing his battle to nausea, tried to concentrate on the mutants now surrounding them both in an attempt to alleviate his symptoms. They were all your typical brainless brute except for a larger mutant whose head was adorned of a predator’s skull similar to a deathclaw’s with a stretched out jaw and a flatter crown. 

“Strong will bash your brains out,” taunted the surrounded mutant, his super sledge at the ready.

“I am Brawn,” announced the helmeted mutant. “Brawn always win!”

Strong, true to his promise, moved in onto a mutant and flattened its head under the weight of his rocket-powered sledgehammer in a flurry of wasted brain matter and disgusting squelches. Down one brother, the other mutants flung themselves at Strong, fury fueling their own sledgehammers and pipe pistols. MacCready eyes’ threatened to roll back into his head at the sudden jerking of his sickly body, almost letting go of his rifle in the process. On reflex, he squeezed his hands onto the gun, a finger pressing down on its trigger. A mutant that was closing in onto Strong’s back received the accidental bullet between its unguarded eyes, his entire mass pummeling to the ground. The sound brought the mercenary back to reality, recentering his mind. Even stuck upside-down, he could still shoot to kill! Renewed purpose filled his limbs with determination once more. As Strong attacked their enemies on one front, MacCready tried as best as he could to take care of the other front. Mutants were felled one by one until only Brawn remained. 

The overlord came down from the crashed vertibird’s tilted haul to confront the enemies that had decimated his ranks. Super sledge hammer in hand, he replicated Strong’s movements, parrying his counterpart. Both mutants grunted at the other as their melee weapons smacked into each other, each impact sending a bolt of pain through MacCready. Hit after hit landed on Strong’s armament, his nemesis gaining the advantage. The young man was mercilessly lobbed to his left when Strong pained in avoiding a massive blow from Brawn. 

“Strong gonna kill you, then Strong gonna eat you!”

“Only one of us survives this, and it won’t be you!” Brawn retaliated, foam escaping from his clenched teeth.

Strong dodged a virulent swing to his flank by jumping backwards, pressing MacCready in between the mutant’s shoulder blades. His consciousness faded in and out with each of Strong’s skirts around his enemy until he felt himself falling forward. His mutant companion lost his footing, lurching his right foot in the air with an arc of sand.  _ That’s it, he’s going to kill me with his entire body weight. Unless…  _ Robert braced for impact, closing his eyes and pointing his gun forward. The rifle’s stock shoved itself under his armpit and into Strong’s back, anchoring itself in the sand and holding up Strong, letting the mutant get his bearings and stand up once more. Feeling his center of gravity straighten again, MacCready opened one eye and muttered prayers of gratitude under his shallow breath.

Strong was now enraged, swinging his super sledge at savage angles, only for all of them to be dodged or countered by Brawn. The two mutants were evenly matched. They were all in a stalemate, Strong and Brawn eyeing each other, MacCready hung upside down on Strong’s back. 

“Strong,” called out MacCready, “do you trust me?”

“What,” spoke a terribly confused Strong.

“Come on, buddy, do you trust me?”

“No! Strong don’t trust puny human!” The mutant launched himself forward to meet Brawn’s sledge. MacCready’s head smacked itself on Strong’s lower back.

“Strong, please, just do as I say! Turn around!”

“No!”

“Come on!”

“No!”

“Strong, turn around NOW!”

“NO!”

“DO IT!”

In a bout of anger, Strong turned on his heel to swipe at MacCready, only for his sledge to meet nothing but air. MacCready, finally facing Brawn, took rapid aim and fired into the enemy super mutant’s face, the first bullet perforating the nose and the second piercing the eye. Brawn recoiled with a shrill, letting go of his rocket-powered sledgehammer in favor of holding onto his mutilated face. Strong, dejected at his failure to hit his mercenary companion, spun back into place to land a final blow onto Brawn’s skull. The enemy’s head popped like a ripe tato. Blood, brains and bile ejected themselves from every orifice possible. The now headless body slumped to the ground never to move again.

“You are weak,” spat the friendly mutant. “I am Stroooonnnng!”

“Yeah, you’re real strong, buddy,” added MacCready.

“Where are you, little human,” Strong demanded to know.

“I’m on your back, idiot.”

“What?”

“I’m stuck to your back! Get me off of you.”

Strong’s large hand extended behind his shoulder and smacked itself onto MacCready’s torso. Feeling his grip taking hold of the mercenary, the mutant pulled him forcefully. The stuck backpack ripped itself apart, liberating its contents as well as MacCready. Strong moved his catch back in front of him, incredulity in his eyes.

“What Mack Ree Dee do on Strong’s back?”

“I got stuck”, whimpered the young man. “Please put me down.”

“Okay.”

Strong gently turned MacCready in his hands so his feet would face the ground and deposited him in the sand. Immediately, the young man turned on his side, his body contorting. He vomited as much as he could, watery bile breaking free of his tortured stomach. Vomiting eventually turned into dry retching, dry retching into coughing and, finally, coughing into laborious breaths.

“Is human okay?”

“Ye-yeah, yeah,” MacCready wheezed out with difficulty. “I’ll be fine.”

“Stupid human. Weak human,” huffed Strong.

_ More like stupid super mutant... _

Back on his feet, the mercenary reached for the medical pouch resting on his hip to inject himself with a much needed Stimpack in the neck. All the wacks he had gotten to his head had rendered him concussed.  _ Thank God for stimpack magic! _ He waited for his vision to stabilize itself again then scoured the crashed vertibird for a new bag of some sort, Strong in tow. He decided to recycle a super mutant sized bed sheet which he tied up into a loose bundle. After filling up his makeshift pack, he gestured for Strong to follow him back out into the open desert. He took wobbly steps, nausea still wrecking his entire being.

The duo strolled underneath the giant rail leading them to Nuka-World as the sun waned on the horizon, colouring the sky in rich purples and reds. Another day of travel was coming to a close, their goal ever closer. MacCready couldn’t help questioning himself as to Gwendolyn’s safety once more, despite the unproductive nature of such thoughts. His vision grew unfocused, the desert sand becoming blurry static with each step he took. His legs suddenly gave out under his weight, his torso falling onto the hot sand. His consciousness wavered anew, his mind slowly dimming in favour of unknown darkness.

************************************

_ MacCready felt his body floating upwards, weightless and free. Free of worries, free of nightmares, free of fears and anguish. The blue sky above was a relaxing sight for his dry eyes. He stretched a hand up in an attempt to catch the puffy clouds entering his field of vision. He wanted to be with them, be like them, nothing to think about and only having to enjoy their travels. A voice called out to him, its sound more akin to wind rustling leaves than a human voice. He couldn’t be bothered to listen, instead letting the breath slither over his body. The voice insisted on being heard, the windy complaint giving him goose flesh. MacCready tilted his head towards the faraway ground, his eye catching the sight of Gwendolyn’s form clad in her blue vault-suit. _

_ “Don’t go up there,” she pleaded, her hands outstretched towards him. “Don’t leave me now.” _

_ “You’re the one that left me behind to rot in the wasteland,” he angrily spat at the woman, making her shrivel up in her vault-suit. “You’re the one that shouldn’t have left, the one that should have stayed with me like you promised!” _

_ “Don’t go up there,” she repeated, tears flowing from her eyes. “Don’t leave me now.” _

_ “Why shouldn’t I just leave you like you wanted me to,” he queried the apparition, her tears reaching up to him and wetting his own face like upside-down rain. “You told me to forget about you and I just can’t. I can’t… because I…” _

_ His voice disappeared, replaced by plumes of smoke escaping his lungs. Unable to breathe, he panicked, his hands clutching at his throat. Gwendolyn lowered her arms to let them settle on her torso, her hands clutching each other over her heart. Her tears grew bigger, each a bubble floating in the increasingly cloudy sky above. _

_ “Don’t go up there,” she echoed, her voice diminishing, becoming the whistling wind. “Don’t leave me now.” _

_ Unable to answer her, unable to tell her what weighted heavily on his mind, Robert felt himself puff out even more smoke from his throat, his lungs combusting from within. He screamed as loudly as he could only for his voice to disappear in the air around him and join the clouds above that had become dark and ominous. He paddled his arms and legs, swimming through the atmosphere, trying to rejoin Gwendolyn that had collapsed on her knees, her hands covering her sobbing features, only to feel himself going ever upwards. He looked on helplessly as his partner disappeared from view until he was annihilated from existence in a waft of smoke. _

*********************************

MacCready gasped himself awake, his senses violently returning to him. His weak hand grazed his face, removing sand from his eyes and nose. Just like in his dream, he felt himself weightless yet not collapsed on the ground. He blinked vigorously to try to make heads or tails of his situation.

He was carefully nestled in Strong’s grasp, his body cuddled up to the mutant’s chestplate. Heat broke over him, making the young man shiver in his skin yet feel himself cold to the touch. Fever.

“Mack Ree Dee,” asked the mutant.

“Hey, Strong. What happened?”

“You fall down. Not wake up.”

“Ah… Damn.”

“Mack Ree Dee better?”

“No, not yet. Do you think we could stop for the night somewhere safe?”

“Yes,” Strong answered. The mutant shifted his slow walk towards a rocky formation creating a natural hangover roof covered in moss and brain fungus. He settled the ill young man onto the sheltered sand and searched his hip pouch. The mutant’s large hand took hold of some raw brahmin and offered it his companion.

“Human hungry? Strong have meat to share.” MacCready accepted the slab of meat with a nod.

“Do you think you can make a fire?”

“Yes, make fire,” acquiested the mutant. He pulled on colorless desert bushes and twigs, dislodging a few to make into a campfire, then lit the construction with a primitive spark wheel.

MacCready threw his brahmin steak onto the fire to let the meat cook. Strong eyed him then did much of the same with a large piece of radstag and sat down next to his human companion.

“Human look very sick. Look very weak.”

“I should be alright after a good night’s sleep,” Robert informed the mutant.

“If Mack Ree Dee too weak to go on, Strong not carry you again. Leave weak human to die.”

“Okay, gotcha,” the mercenary gulped anxiously.

When the meat was finally cooked thoroughly, MacCready removed it from the fire by piercing it with his combat knife. The delicious smell of the ribeye steak flowed into his nose, making him salivate like a mangy dog. It had been a while since he actually had felt hungry. Unable to restrain himself, he grabbed the stab of meat with both hands and bit ferociously into it, its juices dropping onto his chin. At the sight of this small human eating so ravenously, Strong laughed in his mutated and gravelly voice.

“Human eat like super mutant!”

“Shust tryin’ do geth ash strong ash Strong,” MacCready answered while happily munching away at the meat.

“Haha, yes Mack Ree Dee! Strong like!”

“You know,” said the young man after swallowing his last bite, “I think this isn’t so bad after all.”

“What not bad,” Strong grumbled while cocking his large head.

“This. I mean, you and me on the open road,” corrected Robert. “You’re actually pretty nice for a super mutant.”

“Strong not nice. Strong fighter. Strong smash and kill.”

“I mean yeah, you do that but you’re also… not smashing me.”

“No, Strong not smash Mack Ree Dee,” Strong shook his head. “Sometimes, Strong not understand human, but human good fighter. Strong fight with Mack Ree Dee.”

“Well thanks my massive, mutated friend. Do you mind standing watch tonight? I really need some sleep.”

“Okay,” Strong agreed. “See nothing. But Strong still watch.”

Satisfied and pleasantly surprised, MacCready set up his bedroll next to the fire and rapidly drifted to sleep.


	3. Into the Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready enters Nuka-World hell.

“Good fighting, human. Strong impressed.”

“That’s how we do it around here,” MacCready beamed with pride.

Strong and Robert were huddled together behind the cover of a large fallen boulder. The young man was observing the dizzying panic of a squad of Commonwealth raiders whos leader he had just taken down with a headshot. The raider’s head had cracked open in the impact with the .50 caliber bullet, a deluge of blood following the sudden decapitation. Brains and cracked bones exploded onto his compatriots, rendering them as still as stone, left to observe the dead body slump to the ground.

MacCready sent a cheeky grin towards his mutated companion. “How about another one?”

Strong pointed towards the raiders, evidently not understanding the fact that MacCready couldn’t pinpoint the object of the mutant’s attention. Nevertheless, he resumed his sniping position.

“That human weak. Best to kill the weak,” Strong explained.

“There’s an old raider guy. That the one you want me to shoot?”

“Old is weak.”

“Alright, another kill coming right up,” chanted the mercenary.

His bullet remained true, hitting his target in the back of his greying skull. The bone popped in a loud crack. The raider’s brains and eyes were powerfully jetted forward, covering quite the distance before hitting a wooden shack.

“Good kill,” gleefully said the mutant.

“Yep, that one was pretty good. Chalk up another kill for me.”

“Can Strong smash now?”

“Yeah, of course,” chuckled MacCready. “Go get ‘em, buddy.”

Strong leapt to his feet to dislodge the minigun that rested onto the back of his hips. He sprinted towards the helpless raiders, mad cackles escaping his mutated throat. He then revved up the minigun to life, the monstrous spray of bullets mowing down wooden structures and horror-struck raiders alike. 

MacCready exited his cover to observe the bloodbath from a distance. Strong enjoyed painting himself and his surroundings with the blood and gore of the fallen, which was not exactly to Robert’s tastes. Still, he found himself curious and even perhaps attracted to the cathartic activity. It’s the reason why he had decided to shoot out unknowing raiders in the first place. Nobody would miss them and he was able to take out his anger and frustrations on something other than himself, however wrong such actions may be.

By their fourth day of travel through the valley leading to Nuka-World, MacCready’s drive had changed drastically, morphing from one of passion for Gwendolyn to one of anger. Anger at her madness, anger at her actions, anger at her abandonment, anger at her last words to him, anger at that damned holotape she had left him with. Who did she think she was anyways? To have him go on a wild goose chase across uncharted areas to most probably find her corpse at the end of it all and for what? For love? If she had loved him truthfully, she wouldn’t have left in the first place, no? While he considered the day she had declared her love for him the greatest day of his life, a day of glee and lust combined which he never knew he would be privy to, the weeks since his lover’s disappearance had tainted said memory. In his mind, that day now seemed manufactured as if he had fallen prey to Gwendolyn’s nefarious machinations. After all, she did have certain talents in terms of manipulation and subterfuge considering the fact that she was somehow able to balance three major Commonwealth factions while still remaining true to her real objective… And now that the objective in question had been accomplished, she had dropped everything and left. MacCready couldn’t fault her for wanting to leave the Commonwealth and its power struggles behind. Hell, he’d gladly take her away from it all. He couldn’t care less for the political theater Gwendolyn had infiltrated. If she so desired, they could leave together, hand in hand, for the Capital Wastes, New Vegas, or anywhere else for all he cared. As long as they were together, they were invincible. But they were apart. And Robert’s ire could only mount.

Strong trotted back to his human companion, a large and fearsome smile tugging at his slim lips, showing his bloodstained teeth. MacCready felt his stomach churn at the realization that Strong had turned their downed enemies into a tasty snack. Nevertheless, he offered a joyous thumbs up to his companion whom replied with a thumbs up and a throaty laugh of his own.

“Had fun there, big guy,” questioned the mercenary.

“Yes,” the mutant bellowed, rubbing satisfied circles onto his abdomen.

“Good. Let’s get back on the road then.”

Strong took point once more, as per MacCready’s instructions. The mutant was now comfortable and trusting enough around the young man to be given orders he would actually follow. It made Robert’s uneventful travels that much more bearable, yet he simply couldn’t bring himself to entirely believe the super mutant’s benevolence. _Who am I kidding? He still scares the heck out of me._

The day rolled over without any surprises, the desertic valley calm apart from the odd raider gang roaming around small caves or derelict structures. MacCready still noted the slight increase in raider activity the more they progressed along their travels underneath the rails' great shadow. While not too concerning, it still did not bode well for their arrival in Nuka-World proper. Why would there be a concentration of raiders around a merchant hub? The young man was reminded of Bunker Hill’s agreements with their local raider gangs. Surely, the Nuka-World merchants would have enough funds to pay off raiders as well, wouldn’t they? MacCready was also reminded of the raiders he had encountered with Deacon, the ones wearing flamboyant armour covered in beads and stuffed animals. The spy had discovered that they were connected to Nuka-World in some way by questioning the settlers they had rescued and through good old sleuthing. Traders and raiders never cohabited willingly without either slavery, extortion or bloodshed being involved. Robert gulped down a knot of anxiety that had formed in his throat at the thought. The entire situation smelled fishy to say the least. 

That same night, MacCready stood guard, taking the first watch for the night. Strong had settled himself in the sand on his back, mouth agape in loud snores and hiccups. They had found shelter in a forgotten wooden structure reminiscent of a shack standing on wooden beams. The structure above was unfortunately not accessible any longer, the stairs leading up to it rotted way over its years of disuse. Robert observed their surroundings through his scoped rifle, crouched amid a stony formation that had been used to anchor one of the shack’s stilts. The night was untroubled, the sky speckled with glinting stars and housing the pale crescent of the moon. The young man estimated that the new moon would come around in the next few days. The stillness of dusk reminded him of the nights he had spent in Gwendolyn’s company, simply observing the firmament together, breathing in its majesty and comforting each other with their presence alone. Robert longed to return to such times despite his growing animosity for the woman he had pledged himself to. 

His breath escaped his nostrils in puffs of mist. The nights here in the desert were much colder than one would expect. While the Commonwealth was cooler than his homeland, the Capital Wasteland, this arid plain’s temperature dropped even more significantly at sunset. In such times, he was incredibly grateful for the protective fleece that lined his bomber jacket. It kept him warm enough to stave off illnesses. MacCready couldn’t help but think of it as Gwendolyn’s protection. Whether in heart or in spirit, she was helping him stay alert and, most importantly, alive through this jacket that meant so much to the young man. Robert felt his heartbeat accelerate at the thought of Gwen caring for him once more. _Damn it. I still like her too much. Everything about this and about me is just so wrong. She’s my reason to exist now but she still backstabbed me like everyone else ever did in my life. Why did she have to leave me behind like that! I don’t care if we go deal with some raiders or if we just go away and disappear from the world! I just want to do it all with her… Without Gwen, I wouldn’t even be here, I wouldn’t even be alive. I imagine that if she had not picked me up in the Third Rail in the first place, Winlock and Barnes would have found a way to put me in the ground for good… that is if I hadn’t decided to end it all myself. Damn this woman, damn this place! All she had to do was to have my back and she couldn’t even do that!_ MacCready sprung to his feet and kicked violently at the sand. The conflictual nature of his feelings was driving him insane and he knew it. He had to put a end to all of this by confronting Gwendolyn. He had to get up in her face and yell out his anguish and his pain, to make her understand how terrible the suffering she had inflicted on him was. After that, they’d have to figure out what to do with the young and strained relationship they were in.

Two hours of sleep was all that MacCready was able to muster up that night after his guard was lifted. He kept tossing and turning in his bedroll, his mind livid yet aghast, his dreams nightmarish. He would wake up covered in cold sweats, shivering with feverish abandon. The closer he got to Nuka-World, the worse his situation became. Apprehension and anticipation coloured his every move, his heart calling out to Gwendolyn, his mind forsaking her instead. Such ambivalence, Robert knew, could tear him apart and break his psyche just like it had broken Gwendolyn. Was this how she felt towards her son now that she knew he was the mastermind behind the Institute’s evil and not the small baby boy that she remembered? Just thinking about such pain helped the young man understand why she had fled in the first place but he still couldn’t excuse her betrayal. She should have known that he wouldn’t judge her for feeling this way and that he would shoulder her through it.

By midday, Strong and MacCready arrived at a steep and rocky hill blocking their path. The rails they were following glided effortlessly over the natural feature, leading the two companions to climb up after it. It took a few attempts with Strong losing his footing due to his large size and MacCready having difficulty rock climbing his way over massive boulders barring his way like protuberances but the two of them eventually arrived at their destination. 

MacCready’s eyes grew wide as he was finally able to witness Nuka-World in all of its glory. The amusement park was a massive fortress of sorts, a large tower presiding over the different sections surrounding it. Each area seemed to have a theme of some sort, from a futuristic looking city to an artificial canyon and even a huge castle like one could read about in fairy tales. Each and every building on the horizon emitted coloured lights, some flashing, some static. It was as if the stars in the sky had come down to earth at once in one concentrated area. Through his scope, Robert even saw other kind of old world buildings littering the arid land surrounding the park itself. He swept the area to try to understand just what he was looking at. He had never seen something so enchanting in his life prior to this moment. Not even the comic books he loved to read had gone that far overboard in their representation of the world. To think that such a gigantic wonder had been hidden away in this valley surrounded by mountains and that it would have survived the apocalypse this well was simply ludicrous. Yet, faced with the fact that it did exist… MacCready couldn’t help but gawk at its grandeur. 

Once his astonished stupor released his senses, he scanned the buildings of the park for the spawning point of the monorail he had been chasing for days. The rails ended their course in a small station linked to the park by some wooden structures. Nuka-World proper was well guarded, turrets and robots patrolling each and every nook and cranny the mercenary could spot. Even with Strong at his beck and call, there was no way he could enter the colossal compound through anywhere but the transit station at the end of the rails. And even then, getting to the structure would be a bit of a challenge. Wildlife, super mutants and Gunners controlled the outskirts of Nuka-World. At first sight, MacCready feared for Gwendolyn’s safety. In her weak, broken minded state, she should not have been able to outsmart so many enemies at once. The possibility of finding her mangled corpse became very real yet again.

Robert took a deep breath to calm his racing mind at once. It wouldn't do her or himself any good if he ran into danger with his entire being in a panic. No, he first had to devise a plan of action if he wanted to have any chance of reaching the transit station alive. And so, he sat on the dusty ground, curling his legs under himself, to think up a strategy.

Firstly, he would have to ditch the mutant. Strong was a fierce companion to have at his back in combat but definitely not in stealth. If MacCready himself wanted to survive out there long enough to find shelter, he reckoned he’d have to stick to the shadows, maybe even travel at night to avoid detection. Strong being the green giant that he was, would not fare well in such conditions. MacCready scratched at his goatee, the hair growing more and more into a patchy beard everyday. Strong now supposedly knew the way to Nuka-World so he’d probably be fine going back to the Commonwealth but Robert felt like it would be a waste of the mutant’s potential. That’s when an idea struck him like lightning setting an old stump ablaze.

“Strong, my friend, can you do me a huge favour?”

The mutant turned his entire mass to face his human companion, scratching at his head. “Yes, Mack Ree Dee?”

“Do you think you can go back to Sanctuary by yourself? You know where that is, right?”

“Yes, know where it is,” grunted the mutant in return, visibly annoyed that MacCready doubted his capacities.

“Okay, great. I need you to go over there and tell everyone that we found a way to get to Gwendolyn. Hopefully, some of her friends and companions will get off their as-- I mean their butts and come help her out.”

“Why tell them about Goo-wen?”

MacCready scrubbed his long goatee with renewed fervour to conjure up a way to convince the mutant. “Because they’re her friends, her underlings. They should be with their leader, don’t you think? I think Gwen would really like that.”

The mutant hummed his comprehension with his low, guttural voice. “Yes, always be with leader Goo-wen. Strong can do that. Strong can go get them.”

“Awesome. Alright, go get them, my big mutated friend. See you later.”

Strong eyed MacCready for a while longer, as if awaiting a change in plans or for the mercenary to demand he stay instead. Getting impatient, Robert pointed out into the vast desert behind them, a frown etched deeply on his sunburned face. A grunt came from Strong but the mutant did not speak out any further. The large creature turned on his heels and started climbing back down the hill they were posted on. Now that the issue was dealt with, MacCready set out his makeshift backpack in front of him to look over what resources he still had.

The mercenary would need rations just in case he either couldn’t make it into Nuka-World proper soon or if the settlement had been taken over by raiders like he suspected. His medical pouch contained a healthy amount of Stimpaks and bandages, two doses of Med-X, one dose of antibiotics, five Jet inhalers he had looted in raider grottoes along the way, three IV bags of Radaway and one pill bottle of Rad-X. He decided that it was enough chems to make it through the Nuka-World outskirts in one piece. The bed sheet he had re-purposed into a pack was less satisfactory. He only had a handful of .50 caliber clips left for his sniper rifle Savior, a couple of rocks to throw as distractions, one switchblade he kept just in case, four pieces of brahmin jerky along with one vegetable soup in an airtight container, six bottles of purified water, two cartons of dirty water and the odd piece of meat he had also looted from raiders. It wasn’t much in terms of firepower or sustenance but with enough luck and dutiful rationing, he could make it work. Finally, at the bottom of his pack, he had stashed some cloth he had looted from raiders. One of them was a cowl he could put under his hat to keep himself cool and camouflaged in the scarce bushes and other plants left in the Nuka-World outskirts. The cowl acted like a hood while being long enough to wrap around his neck and face to hide his identity. He quickly put it over his head, wrapped himself and topped his head with his hat to keep the fabric in place. Since he didn’t own a mirror, MacCready had no idea how he looked to an outsider but the fabric would minimally hide his features, protect his already sunburned skin and maybe, just maybe, he would even look cool under the raider-like apparel. 

Third and most importantly, MacCready had to organize his thoughts and emotions. He had no way of knowing what he would find in Nuka-World. Would he be reunited with Gwendolyn? Would he even find her at all? Would he instead discover her dead? Or, if his raider theory held up, would he find her enslaved by them… or worse? Such questions were unproductive and dangerous to a mercenary and a survivor. Robert hoped to come back from the ordeal alive and, as such, needed to keep a clear head on his shoulders, not the mind of a love-sick martyr. If Gwendolyn was alive, him losing his mind and falling prey to his emotions would do her no good at all. And if she was dead… No, better not even entertain the thought more than he already had. He had to cleanse himself of anything that would detract from his survival. _This is a job, a contract. You go in, you get her, you get out. That’s all I need to do now. That’s all you need in that dumb head of yours now._

Robert pulled out a crushed pack of Grey Tortoise cigarettes from his olive army pants and selected one of the last butts it still contained. He held it in his mouth with his lips and procured a flip lighter from another pocket to light it up. The instant gratification of nicotine entering his lungs helped put an end to his whirling sentiments. Smoking might be no better than chems for your health but he couldn’t help himself and had no intention of quitting either. He had first smoked the stale tobacco at the age of six back in Little Lamplight. He had picked up the habit along with drinking during his tender years in the cave full of children. Indulging in either craving always helped put his mind at ease.

Now relatively tranquil and geared up, he looked back at the expansive desert he was leaving behind one last time. He spotted a disgruntled Strong walking heavily in the rails' snaking shadow back towards the Commonwealth. He inhaled what was left of his cigarette before squashing it underfoot. His goal now literally in sight, he only had to take a step to be on his way to Gwendolyn, and to discover her fate. 

Despite the nicotine invading his organs through his blood cells, his heart palpitated in anxious anticipation. _Alright, it’s now or never. She’s somewhere in that fortress. I don’t know what I’ll do with her when I find her but that doesn’t matter. I’ve got to get to her first._ His dedication might have been wavering, his conviction might have been disappearing, but nothing could keep him from achieving his goal now that he was so close to it. It had taken months to get here and he intended to see it through. He flung his makeshift pack on his shoulder, picked up his sniper rifle and left his vantage point at sunset.

Gun at the ready, he walked down the hill slowly, making himself appear as small as possible without being in a full blown crouch. His survival instincts were now in overdrive, awakened by the strange animals he spotted down the hill separating him from Nuka-World. Some were giant ants like he had heard rumors about back in the Capital Wastes. Supposedly, New Vegas was overrun with the arthropods. Some were strange looking radstags. They were smaller in both stature and horns. He also spotted some mongrels and other dogs roaming the plains in packs. Avoiding all those animals would prove difficult but not impossible for a trained survivalist like himself. To avoid detection through smell, MacCready decided to cover himself with dirt, wishing for the sandy earth to cover his musk. He then resumed his walk down the hill.

Back on terra firma, Robert leapt from one patch of darkness to the other, shadow provided by tall dead trees, a crumbling overpass and the monorail’s large rails. He crouched and walked slowly, gently, amongst the dead brush and animal carcasses, making his way forward towards the transit station. He got closer with each step and each shadow he had selected to stealthily make his approach until he was stopped dead in his tracks by a loud voice coming from the station itself. The voice was high pitched and crackly, almost as if coming from radio speakers.

“Hey, any of you hear that Nisha once - supposedly - took out an entire raider gang by herself? Looking for facts and/or proof. Come talk to me,” announced the disembodied voice.

_So someone cleared out a raider gang? Normally, raiders don’t attack each other so maybe this place hasn’t been taken over like I thought?_

The voice continued to dribble on until it announced some other news. “I’ve also got a note here from your beloved Overboss! Says here… yeah okay, it says to lay off the traders for a while since a bunch of ‘em are dying too quickly for them to be replaced. So you know what that means, you assholes! No more using the traders as live bait for your fucked up arena games. I think the Overboss is talking to Mason in particular with that one.”

_Well damn it, they are raiders. And the traders are probably their slaves. Cute. Now… is Gwen a trader or a raider…_

MacCready resumed his approach, stepping closer to the transfer station with each passing minute. At first, he had no idea of how he’d be able to enter the deserted structure. It seemed heavily barricaded as if only meant to be entered from within the park itself or by using the monorail. Large metal structures shoddily welded together blocked every possible entryway. Robert’s gut told him that something was definitely amiss. Why would raiders, people known for being incredibly lazy and having poor construction skills, go to such lengths to fortify the transit station but not patrol it or even install turrets or spotlights to guard it? Trap. It just had to be a trap. The young man saw no other possible option. It made him ponder if he should really go through with his plan to infiltrate Nuka-World via this station. It would be much safer for him to remain undetected as long as he could, not for him to walk into an obvious trap, make his presence known and attract the attention of hundreds if not thousands of raiders. _I’ve got no choice. It’s the transit station or nothing at this point. I think I can probably climb up onto the monorail platform from the south-west._ Indeed, some of the concrete structure had crumbled down in large enough blocks to create a makeshift ramp that MacCready could climb. With Savior safely attached to his back, Robert pulled up his jacket sleeves.

Slow and steady hands lifted him from one block to the other, dexterously climbing up the rubble ramp. The jagged edges of broken mortar cut into his palms, painting his way up in fresh blood. MacCready muffled a curse, trapping it behind his teeth. He was leaving traces of his passage which was more than inadvisable. Still, he decided to power through the pain that the cuts and the subsequent debris entering his flesh caused. The voice over the radio waves became clearer as he ascended so he decided to listen in. 

“It's Redeye here, running Raider Radio. You love it, and you know it!”

_Redeye uhm… that’s such a dumb name._

“Savages of all ages, come along and listen to Redeye as he tells you about the legend, the myth, our new Overboss.”

_The Overboss has got to be the raider leader around here, right? I hope I don’t cross him anytime soon._

“So ya’ll remember how the old Overboss Colter was a good for nothing asshole that just sat on his ass all day, right? Never tried to even take over the different parks or anything. And I’m sure you all remember who put him down for good. Yep that’s right, Overboss Blaze destroyed Colter in the best Gauntlet run we’ve ever seen! It was bloody magnificent, I tell ya! Who other than Overboss Blaze would have figured out that all you needed was a squirt gun and a whole lot of ammo to kill the old bastard.”

_Wait, a squirt gun? How does that make any sense?_

“And of course you all should know by now how the Overboss single-handedly took over the entire park! Nuka-World belongs to us only because of Overboss Blaze. So if you see him walking around in his trademark Power Armor, you friggin’ get on your knees and thank him. Without him, we would be so screwed.”

_Man, this Redeye guy sounds like a fanatic… Almost like the Children of Atom and their cult. How hard can taking over a bunch of pre-war roller-coasters really be?_

“Now, y’all know not to fuck with Porter Gage now, yeah? I’ve heard from legit sources that he was the one to put the Overboss in charge after he killed Colter in cold blood. Nisha’s gonna have to get along with him now, I say.”

MacCready lifted himself onto the monorail platform. He was greeted by dust and debris, the station completely abandoned and devoid of life. The building’s windows were barred with heavy duty metal bars and lattice work, leaving Robert no choice but to explore the structure for a way forward. It housed the monorail that he should have been able to ride back in the Commonwealth as well as rope lines designed to guide him to the far wall of the station. Said wall was encumbered with metallic cages and wooden panels. The biggest one had a crude white arrow painted on it, beckoning him to approach. An entry sign was posted above it.

The man on the radio stopped his ramblings short. He coughed nervously.

“Attention all my favorite undesirables out there. Despite the Overboss’s orders to shut down the Gauntlet, we got ourselves some fresh meat! The Disciples are gonna get an earful from Blaze, I can tell ya.”

_Is he… talking about me?_ MacCready quickly scanned his surroundings, finding himself in the crosshairs of multiple cameras. Frustrated for not noticing them beforehand, he punched the wooden entry sign. _Damn it, I knew it was a trap!_

“Looks like this vic is a flighty one. Hey vic! Yeah, you in the leather jacket. There’s no way out for you now. That’s it, follow the arrows… And he's off! Let's hope this accidental prey can draw a little... inspiration from our previous victims!”


	4. The Gauntlet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready is trapped within the monstrous Gauntlet.  
> Gage accompagnies the Overboss on their round.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting anything for months. I actually got really sick just before the whole quarantine started and I healed not too long ago. Then, I simply felt so guilty about not writing for 5 months that I procrastinated until literally yesterday. I felt absolutely awful yesterday and so I did what I normally do when I'm terribly depressed: I wrote. And so, here it is, the fourth chapter of this fic. 
> 
> NO THIS FIC ISN'T ABANDONED. EXPECT MORE SOMETIME SOON.

“What the hell do you mean by there’s a vic in the Gauntlet?”

“I mean that there’s an asshole currently going through the Gauntlet and that, as the Overboss, you need to go take care of it,” Gage answered as dryly as he could make his deep drawling voice. The boss looked back from their power armour station to plant a scorching glare into his one eye. Porter snickered in response.

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger boss. Ya can take it up with those no good Disciples when we’ve got the situation under control.”

The Overboss sighed heavily as they cracked their signature X-01 power armour. The imposing suit was painted black but seemed like it was adorned with flames. Those were in fact blood splatter that had been cooked onto the metallic surface by the harsh sun of Nuka-World and subsequently never washed off. Now in the suit, the Overboss' normal voice was replaced by a deep robotic-like voice crackling over their helmet’s speakers. 

"Let's get this shit over with then…" they huffed in defeat. Before Porter Gage could give his partner any kind of sarcastic quip in response, Redeye came over the radio waves to give his progress report on the situation taking place in the Gauntlet.

“The vic's still alive, but don't let that get you down. The Gauntlet's still got plenty in store for this one,” Redeye tried to sooth the listening raiders of the compound. The radio jockey let the tension build for a minute before announcing the next Gauntlet room’s devious trap. “Time for things to get dangerous. See if he survives what's next!”

“Well ain’t that a goddamn shame, right boss? Ya might have to deal with ‘em personally and have a bit of fun for once. A real damn shame…” Gage mused. Overboss Blaze didn’t answer.

*********************************

_ What the- What kind of sick raider came up with all of these damn traps! First a room filled with turrets, now flamethrowers and mines as long as the eye can see? _

MacCready was hiding away in a corner of the large corridor littered with car carcasses and a number of undetonated mines. He was covered with dust, soot and blood, unfortunately his own. In the first room, he had not been able to evade a number of turrets, their bullets tearing holes in his arms and torso. Currently, he was taking the time to patch himself up with stimpacks and cloth bandages while the radio host was taunting him over the PA system. The voice was grating but welcomed as the raider kept giving up important information as to the young man’s surroundings. MacCready got himself back up after taking a swig of water from his waterskin and headed towards the corridor that would lead him towards his next trial. 

The cul-de-sac lead to three red doors identified with question marks. As MacCready was slowly inspecting the doors and his surroundings, Redeye chimed in over the speakers.

“It's decision time! All doors lead to death... some just slower than others.”  _ Can this raider shut up already? _

Robert’s body might have been tired and recovering from blood loss but his trained eyes were still his best tool. He quickly noticed that one of the doors had old crusted blood pooled underneath it. This quickly eliminated the far right door as the one to open to move forward. Now, the mercenary was confronted by the two remaining doors, none of them giving away the secret they held beyond. 

Approaching the far left door, MacCready noticed a delicate draft escaping from it. The air smelled stagnant and devoid of the particular tang of blood he had grown so accustomed to. Just to make sure he was right, he pressed his ear to the door to try to catch any voices or growls that could be coming from a potential enemy waiting in ambush for him to slam the door open. After a minute, no noises could be heard behind the thin wood. Feeling himself in a relatively safe location, Robert decided to take a little break to eat and take a much needed breather. He had to admit that these raiders were sadistically ingenious, creating a plethora of deadly machinations to torture unwilling participants for their twisted pleasures. Such behaviour was a million times worse than what any Commonwealth raider could ever come up with, that was for certain. Despite Redeye’s constant taunts, he stood his ground, taking whatever time he needed to rest up before continuing.

*********************************

The Overboss was heading over to the Disciples’ den in a loud and heavy gait, not that they could do any different with all the metal currently covering their body. Blaze puffed heavy breaths that were clearly audible through their helmet’s speakers.  _ Didn’t think the boss would be so pissed off about the Gauntlet still functioning. Come on, Blaze must know that it helps unify the gangs, right? I keep telling ‘em that shutting it down was a bad idea anyways _ .

Porter Gage entered the Disciples disgusting hideout in tow, letting the Overboss take charge of the situation. The interior of the concrete mountain was covered with blood, gore, skeletons and dying or dead traders and raiders alike. If he didn’t know better, he could swear it had been the work of super mutants. Blaze didn’t react to the decor and simply headed directly for the stairs leading up to Nisha’s private quarters, only slowing down to stare and repel Savoy, Nisha’s top dog. As Gage passed by him, the masked man muttered under his breath that the only thing keeping him from tearing out Porter’s throat was Nisha. Amused, Gage gave the blood-thirsty man a sinister smile.

“Overboss Blaze, what an honor, “ Nisha gracefully offered the menacing power armour observing her. “Don’t tell me you’re finally tired of having Gage kiss your ass?”

“No,” the robotic voice answered. Nisha scowled in response.

“So, why are you here breathing down my neck instead of heading to the Nuka-Car arena, oh great Overboss,” the masked woman pressed on.

“You promised to shut down the Gauntlet. Why did you fail me?”

“Oh, I assure you we haven’t,” she purred, making her way around the table separating her from the Overboss to approach her interlocutor. “We did shut down the monorail just like you wanted. I guess this vic sneaked his way into the station. My girls couldn’t count on that happening now, could they,” Nisha attempted. 

“They were supposed to dismantle the Gauntlet like we agreed. You’ll bring me the heads of the raiders that disobeyed or I’ll have to do it myself,” Blaze angrily responded. Savoy decided to make his presence known and interjected.

“One. Wrong. Move. Just try me,” he spat at the Overboss while Nisha gestured him to stop.

Overboss Blaze heavily turned on their heel to face the incoming threat. Using their metallic hand, the boss reached for the rocket powered bladed baseball bat that rested on their hip. Nisha, in response, grabbed the Overboss’s free hand to bring their attention back to her.

“Don’t worry about Savoy. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. Now, about my people, I’ll have Dixie investigate the matter. Is that enough?”

“No,” the Overboss’s mechanical voice answered. “Their heads by tomorrow. You know what happens to those who disobey.”

“Yes, Overboss,” Nisha grumbled, retreating to the far back of her quarters.

“Gage,” Blaze called out.

“Yes boss?”

“Make sure she does good on my orders and does dismantle the Gauntlet this time around. If she fails me again, I give you full control over her destiny.”

“That’s mighty generous of ya,” Porter snickered in response. “Anything you want, boss.”

“Good. Let’s head to the arena.”

“Yes boss,” an elated Gage eagerly responded to his superior. Savoy observed the two of them leave, knowingly powerless to protect the object of his loyalty. The last raider to have defied the Overboss was now nothing but brahmin food, despite their entire gang trying to kill them in their tracks. If there’s one person here that one had to take seriously, it was Overboss Blaze.

*********************************

“Let's get a move on. Doesn't matter what you do. The Gauntlet gets 'em all in the end!” Redeye heckled Robert. Annoyed at the man over the radio, the mercenary threw a rock at a nearby speaker, disabling it. Topped off and feeling much better, he decided to open the door on the far left. It was indeed the safest door to traverse. He congratulated himself on not falling into another ridiculous trap.

The door led to a flight of stairs and into a meander of small rooms. Sniper rifle at the ready, MacCready made his way downstairs only to be hit with a cloud of irradiated air. Instinctively, he covered his mouth with his right hand even though he knew it wouldn’t protect him from the radiation permeating in the area. Redeye, of course, came on the radio once again to laugh at his victim.

“Hope someone brought their Radaway, 'cause our little vic is about to get roasted like a squirrel on a stick.”

MacCready scrambled to get his bearings, feeling his eyes water at the noxious air harassing him. He knew he only had a very small amount of Radaway still stashed in his pack so he booked it around the winding corridors, ignoring, contouring and avoiding all sorts of debris. Despite his rush against time, he stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted a female corpse desperately holding onto a note. The woman’s body had striking resemblances to the Gwendolyn of yesteryears, when she still had a gorgeous mane of brown hair highlighting her features. That’s when it hit MacCready. This entire time, her corpse could have been somewhere in this Gauntlet. She could have died from all manners of traps in this infernal torture mechanism. Despite the radiation embedding itself savagely into his skin, he head towards the corpse to observe it. Redeye came on the radio to taunt him once more, telling him to learn from the previous victims of the Gauntlet. After a quick look over, MacCready declared that the corpse did not belong to Gwendolyn. Still, feeling somewhat sentimental, he grabbed the note the young woman had been clutching as she died. If he ever had the time, he might read it.

Eventually, Robert made it to a heavy steel door. He tried to open it to no avail, It was locked with a fairly complicated mechanism. Seeing no other options at the time, he stashed his gun onto his back and pulled out some bobby pins from his belt pocket. 

“Hey vic, you’re looking a little green there!” laughed Redeye over the radio. 

It took an entire minute for MacCready to crack the lock and stumble onto the other side of the door. Before he realised he had stumbled into an entirely new section of the Gauntlet, he quickly stabbed his wrist with a needle that he inserted the other end of into the tube of a fresh pack of radaway. The medicine acted slowly, taking its sweet time to save his hide from becoming a ghoul. Unable to hold onto the contents of his stomach, Robert vomited, keeled over the concrete floor of the tunnel he now was in. Feeling relieved, he brushed his lips with the back of his hand and got himself back up, somewhat ready to continue onwards.

MacCready entered the Nuka-World Access Tunnels cautiously, ignoring the booming radio host's taunts. It gave him no advantage to get heated over a raider out of his gun’s range, the mercenary tried to reason. Taking slow steps to not trigger a hidden tripwire or explosive, he found himself in an underground corridor lined with menacingly growling machine gun turrets. A single mechanical monkey bathed in artificial light beckoned him to approach but MacCready knew better.  _ That’s about as obvious a trap as I’ve ever seen. _

He lifted his sniper rifle and took aim at the monkey’s head. The bullet tore off the plushed skull, disarming the sensors that would evidently make the monkey clap its annoying cymbals and trigger the turrets to fire upon him. Redeye came over the airwaves once more.

“Aw, what? Call me crazy, but I think our vic's got something against fun,” the raider angrily spat into his microphone.”

Taking no heed of the voice enveloping the echoey chamber, MacCready pressed on, congratulating himself on not becoming a pile of juicy meaty mush from the insane amount of turrets lining the hall that were now rendered inoffensive.

It didn’t take long for Redeye to make his ever watchful presence heard once more. “Don’t think you're out of trouble yet, vic! The best is still to come…” he ominously trailed on.

Robert found himself now trapped into a maze of generators and foul odors. The room stank of burned flesh and feces. It didn’t take long for him to catch the pulsating red of a blinking light amongst the rubble lining the narrow paths. Slowly, the mercenary approached the light only to realize it came from a fragmentation mine. At this realization, he dove onto it and quickly disarmed it with trained hands.  _ It’s not today that I’m gonna let myself blow up! _

He saw a path littered with debris and bones to his immediate left while another similar path extended in front of him. Meaning to see all possible options before going on his way, he observed his surroundings. That’s when he noticed that the next path on his left housed the corpses of a good number of molerats. At least that explained the smell of death and decay emanating from this maze. The next path on his left was almost fatal. An alien like MacCready had often seen portrayed in the comics he collects pointed its alien blaster at him. Fortunately, the creature did not actually still have a full head, somehow making it impossible for the creature to fire its gun. Half of its cranium had been blasted away, revealing wires and metal within.  _ Guess aliens still aren’t real, uhm. _

Seeing that his best bet was to head down the first path, he turned back and entered the dark alley. He was welcomed by another alien animatronic, but this time, it was armed and ready to fire. MacCready dodged the first laser blast by diving down into the rubble. He pulled himself up and tried to leap into the next part of the path but the alien shot faster, hitting the young man in his left leg. The laser burned up the fabric of his pants and seared his skin, prompting a yelp to escape his lungs. Redeye, always observing him through the multitude of cameras strewn about, laughed at his misery. The laser had left a hole of cauterized skin in Robert’s shin. Seeing no other option, he stabbed the tender burned flesh with a stimpack, dragging a low moan of pain from his lips.  _ Man, I’m starting to run really low on supplies. I can’t afford to get seriously hurt again. _

He crawled part of the way into the dirt and trash littering the ground until he found himself confronted with some shoddily assembled wooden stairs. The young man breathed deeply then propped himself onto his shaky legs, the injured one almost letting up as he put his weight onto it. In slow and laborious steps, he made it onto the generators, and eventually out of the maze entirely. 

  
  


*********************************

“You sure about this boss?” Gage asked, concerned.

“Yes.”

“I don’t think the raiders will like this.”

“I don’t care”

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” the raider shrugged.

Overboss Blaze had asked that he fetch some slave collars in case the current victim of the Gauntlet made it to the arena alive. At first, he had been surprised at the sudden demand, noting how unlike the boss it was. If there’s one thing that Blaze wasn’t, it was merciful. In the past, during one of the boss’s many patrols around Nuka-World, an Operator had dared yell insults at the boss, screaming about how Mags Black should be in charge around here. The Overboss had calmly let the raider empty his heart of all possible complaints he had as they approached in slow lumbering steps. The Operator had taunted the boss, calling them a puppet and a weak leader, amongst other much more unsavory names. Once Blaze was in front of the raider attacking him, he had simply picked up the man with his hydraulic fist. Seeing how he was definitely outmatched, the raider had began to plead for his life, saying things like “Mags won’t let you do this” and “I didn’t mean it, it’s the Psycho talking”. Blaze had then walked over to the Operator’s salon and demanded to see Mags Black and her brother. Seeing one of her own in such a dire situation, Mags had demanded that the Overboss excuse whatever stupid action had led to the confrontation. Blaze seemed pensive for a moment before smashing the man they were holding onto the ground, probably breaking most of the guy’s bones in the process. Blaze had then demanded to know how did one of their grunts had come up with the idea that they weren’t fit to command over the raider gangs. Mags assured the boss that it wasn’t any of her doing. Not a shred of clemency would be seen from the boss that day however. The boss made a complete example out of that one raider by bashing in his head with their metallic boot so many times that blood was sprayed all over Mags Black. Blaze had then pinned the remaining corpse to the Operator’s salon door as a reminder of what defiance would afford any other detractor. Since then, relations with Mags Black had been tenuous at best but the message had been clear. All other raiders that were even heard making off hand comments at the Overboss’s expense had met a similar fate. Such violence was known to the raiders, of course, but not to the extreme that Overboss Blaze had committed. Somewhere near fifty decapitated corpses littered Nuka-Town, each of them with a note strapped to them detailing their violation. It could be as minor as someone commenting to their friend about how the boss smelled bad that day all the way to a raider attacking either Gage or the Overboss. Now, Overboss Blaze wanted to enslave the vic coming from the Gauntlet but not enslave the raiders that spoke out against them? They truly wanted to anger the raider gangs by, for once, not killing someone? Now, that seemed out of character. 

On their way to the Nuka-Car arena proper, Porter watched their surroundings with his one good eye. Raiders and traders alike seemed confused at Redeye’s announcements over the loudspeakers. After a month of complete silence from the Gauntlet, it had now come back to life? It was well-known that it had been shut down after the arrival of Overboss Blaze in power. Despite how violent and merciless they were, they did not approve of the novel torture method, especially since it had been used to select who would replace Overboss Colter. Gage could definitely understand why the new Overboss wouldn’t want the Gauntlet to be functional since it did involve fighting for the dominion over Nuka-World. Also, Porter had no reason to want to replace the current Overboss, as they had done precisely what Colter couldn’t: taking over the entire park. No, he was pleased with Blaze being in power and him being his right hand man. Blaze respected him, something he had never had with either Colter or the other raiders he had run with in his past. On top of that, Blaze actually liked him speaking his mind and coming up with plans to deal with things. Their working relationship was definitely a good one, one that brought both caps and respect into their lives. 

“Porter,” asked the Overboss, dragging the raider out of their reverie.

Gage cocked a surprised brow. The boss never called him his first name out of the Fizztop Grille, let alone where prying ears could listen in. Something must be wrong. “Yeah, what’s up boss?”

“Am I doing the right thing?”

Gage was bewildered. The boss had never questioned themselves before. Why was the appearance of a victim in the Gauntlet caused the almighty Blaze to hesitate in any way? All he had to do was kill whatever came into the arena and be done with it. There was no way a vic could ever defeat Blaze so why did the boss appear so hesitant.

“Hey now, come on boss. You’ve been doing great ever since you arrived. You did the impossible and then some. Why are you questioning that now?”

“I’ve a bad feeling about this, Porter.”

“Well, ya ain’t got to worry about anything boss. I’ve got your back no matter what.”

“You really mean that?” the boss quizzed further, their robotic voice wavering ever so slightly.

“Of course. You have my back, I have yours. That’s how it always was and that’s how it’s always gonna be. Don’t gotta worry about nothin’.”

The Overboss fell silent. They entered the Nuka-Car arena, Porter Gage in tow.

*********************************

MacCready muffled a flurry of curses as he rolled out of danger’s way. He had tripped on one of the many fragmentation mines littering this new part of the Gauntlet, producing a gigantic chain reaction of explosions behind him. Redeye cackled on the speakers in response. It took the mercenary a moment to catch his breath and realize he had somehow made it all the way to yet another door. 

“When would the trials ever end”, he demanded no one in particular before slamming this new door open.

He was welcomed by the smell of rot and musk, an aroma that reminded him of a nest of mirelurks. It didn’t take long for him to spot a broken bridge that used to be stretched across a pit filled with broken mirelurk eggs. 

“Haha! Get in there, sucker,” laughed Redeye. “Hope he doesn't forget to feed the mirelurks”

MacCready rolled his eyes and jumped down into the pit. The shallow waters were filled to the brim with broken mirelurk shells and dead hatchlings. No threat here. He walked all the way to a narrow hallway that used to contain booby traps. It didn’t take long for the mercenary to notice that all of them were already disarmed. It seems like this part of the Gauntlet had not been rearmed since the last poor soul that had been trapped here had seen these hallowed halls.

Unfortunately, this peaceful walk in the park would end abruptly when he got himself locked into a room quickly filling up with what he assumed to be poisonous gas. Redeye, ever so helpful, described his predicament over the radio waves. 

“What's that? Someone lock you in? Just take a nice, deep breath. It'll all be over soon.”

As he breathed the air while scrambling around for a solution, he felt his airways burn and close up to the point that tears pricked his eyes. The room was lined with pipes and valves hidden behind chain link fences. MacCready tried to turn a number of valves, only for Redeye to taunt him about his futile attempts and for the gas to keep pumping into the room. 

“Gonna take more than turning some valves to stop the flow of this gas.”

He attempted to check the computer in the center of the round room only to be faced by a message from the raiders living in Nuka-World. 

“Someone thinks he's clever. Time for a little reality check”, Redeye sarcastically explained. “Let's see if our vic can kill the gas before the gas kills him.”

Breathless, he clasped his hands over his throat, despair taking over all of his senses. Fortunately, he spotted a key hidden in a locked cage. He pulled out a bobby pin and unlocked the chain link door and grabbed the keys. 

“Wasting time, vic. Just wasting time,” Redeye reminded both his audience and his torture victim.

MacCready’s mind was becoming muddier by the second, his life being snuffed away by the gas taking hold of his lungs. He fell on one knee, dry retching, struggling to maintain his balance as he felt his consciousness waver. Despair gave him one last bit of energy to crawl to the locked door and insert the key into its lock. Somehow, he managed to turn the key and open the door before falling to the floor again, all of his limbs feeling completely limp and lifeless. Fresh air tickled his nostrils, bringing him back to the present moment. He used the rest of his adrenaline rush to crawl out of the room and turn himself onto his back. He took in deep breaths, the stagnant air of the Gauntlet now seeming like the most delicious mountain air he had ever breathed. He closed his eyes and smiled at himself, as if high on the delicious air as one would on a pump of Jet. Eventually, Redeye brought MacCready back from his euphoric state.

“Jesus, who's torturing who? Pick up the pace, vic!”

Disgruntled and angered, the mercenary got back on his feet and put Redeye on his mental kill list. This new room he found himself in contained gigantic teacups, probably an amusement park ride, and the decomposing remains of flying ants. A sigh of relief escaped Robert when he saw that he wouldn’t have to deal with the insects. As such, he made for the next tormenting room he would have to go through.

Redeye’s voice came once more on the speaker system. “Goddamn, look who's in the homestretch! Time for a little audience participation!” 

MacCready was in an outdoor corridor made entirely of chain link fences. Raiders in strange apparels awaited him on top of and around said cage-like structure. The moment he stepped into this strange space, the raiders howled in delight and pulled out their weapons. Realizing that they intend to shoot at him, Robert put away his gun and just ran for it. He sprinted as fast as his tired body allowed him, luckily avoiding a good number of shots. A smart-looking raider in black leather gear was able to shoot MacCready in his right shoulder. The pain shot through his body but he refused to acknowledge it, putting all of his remaining energy into his gait. Blood splashed out of the wound as he went, covering a good amount of his leather sleeve in fresh red. The final stretch was definitely a very difficult task indeed; the mercenary receiving three more bullet wounds before crashing into the door at the end of the cage-like corridor. 

Redeye sounded bewildered as his voice graced the PA system for the millionth time. “Well, I'll be damned. You know what that sound means. Get your ass down to Cola-Cars. The main event's about to begin!”


	5. Overboss Blaze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready face off against Nuka-World's Overboss. Porter Gage gets introduced to yet another thorn in his side.

MacCready inspected the derelict locker room he found himself in. It was littered with both dried up gore and discarded weapons. Seeing no reason to be shy, he replenished his ammo stock as much as he could, finding a couple of bullets strewn about here and there. Eventually, the mercenary sat down on one of the benches that were placed between the rows of lockers to recuperate and devise a plan of attack. If Redeye, the raider on the radio, could be trusted, MacCready was about to enter the belly of the beast so to speak. He would have to fight the Overboss himself if he wanted to survive this ordeal. 

Robert figured that Nuka-World had to be the greatest raider haven in this part of the world. It definitely surpassed any of the Commonwealth raiders’ wildest imaginations. These bloodthirsty savages were organized, smarter and much more dangerous. Who knows what this Overboss could even be packing. Power Armour? A mini gun? Explosives? If one person could unite hundreds of psychopaths under their wings, it had to be one of the deadliest kind…

An intercom that MacCready had spotted as he entered the locker room chirped to life in a combination of static and distant roars of an audience of raiders.

“Hey, you still alive in there,” questioned a low, drawling voice. Robert did not answer. Instead, he slowly approached the wall-bound device.

The voice sighed heavily in disbelief. “Shit, did the lil’ guy really fucking die just like that?”

“HEY,” the voice repeated. “Get your ass outta there before, I dunno, we flood the room with rads and shit.” The audience surrounding the owner of the voice roared and booed loudly at the thought of missing out on the bloodshed of a vic being destroyed by their Overboss.

“Look,” the voice pleaded sarcastically, “it’s either you starve to death in your little cage or you face your fate like a man. Ya ain’t got much choice in the matter. So, you gonna be a pussy or what?”

That was the last straw. MacCready angrily slammed his palm against the intercom’s button, activating his microphone. “Shut the hell up!”, the young man yelled at the top of his lungs into the machine.

“Well, ya ain’t dead after all,” cackled the voice. “Just a lil piece of advice for ya, dead meat. You shouldn’t make our lovely audience wait any longer, huh?!” The audience roared and cheered in response. 

Tired and exasperated, Robert gave into his anger and slammed the exit door as hard as he could. _Can’t keep prolonging the inevitable. Damn it!_

*********************************

“Fucking hell, finally! The vic is on the move, boss,” Gage announced to his Overboss. Blaze remained placid, not even sparing him a glance.

“Come on, boss. Let’s just get this shit over with so we can go back to the Fizztop already, yeah?” No answer.

Overboss Blaze was immobile, waiting at the entrance gate of the arena they’d have to enter to deal with the latest victim of the Gauntlet. Porter Gage observed their metallic back with apprehension from behind his computer station. From his experience, the boss relished the opportunity to tear into their next victims, taking joy in a good ol’ fashion massacre like any good raider would. Seeing them so silent and unsure of themselves at a time like this gave Gage chills. This wasn’t anywhere as dangerous or complicated as their last raid on the Gunners slowly invading the plains surrounding Nuka-World. It was just crushing a random Commonwealth weakling, nothing more. So why act like this now?

The mighty power armour took a loud step back and a robotic whisper escaped the Overboss’s helmet speakers. Startled, Gage followed their line of sight. Blaze was transfixed on the young man that had emerged from the preparation locker room and into the glass corridor separating him from the arena. Whoever that scrawny guy was, he had quite an effect on the normally level headed Overboss. Blaze’s reaction lasted a couple of seconds before the hulking figure resumed their previous position. Porter truly hoped that no raider in the audience had noticed the Overboss’s failure to keep their composure. Any shown weakness was a new way for the raiders of Nuka-World to try to exploit the boss or even take them down. When Overboss Blaze had come into power, Gage’s first order of business had been to teach them how to keep their composure and cultivate a ruthless image. Those had been lessons that Blaze had taken in stride, surpassing their teacher in a matter of days. Now, how could the sight of one guy make the boss crumble like that, Porter wondered.

The raiders populating the arena’s seating area grew more and more impatient, their screams permeating the entire area. The Pack members howled frantically while the Disciples yelled for blood and death. The Operators, meanwhile, were booing the empty arena. If something didn’t happen soon, the raiders might cause a riot. To calm down the chem fueled crowd, Porter Gage made a call on a small two-way radio. 

“Redeye, it’s Gage. Get on your radio.”

The radio device crackled. “What am I supposed to say to em, Gage? This shit is taking too damn long!”

“Figure it out or you’re dead.”

Redeye came back on the radio waves, gulping heavily before recounting one of his bogus stories to try to calm down the raiders. The one-eyed raider swore under his breath in response but at least, it did seem to catch the attention of some of the audience. Unfortunately for the radio jockey, it definitely couldn’t last long…

“Gage,” called out Overboss Blaze. “Let me in there. The vic is ready.”

*********************************

MacCready entered a small circular area filled with sand, dust and old bumper cars. Evidently, this had been one of the attractions of Nuka-World before the war. A rowdy audience of raiders was taunting him with blood-curdling screams and gestures. Some of them, mostly the multicolored raiders covered in stuffed animals, were banging on the plexiglass separating them from the arena proper. While difficult, MacCready tried to not pay any attention to the rowdy audience. The real main event was the small door in front of him. The metallic door sported a small window covered in a steel mesh. The door itself isn’t what attracted MacCready’s attention but, of course, the shadowed figure standing right behind it. All he could see was what appeared to be a power armour helmet staring him down. The black helmet splattered in dried blood gave nothing away about its wearer. 

After a lull in radio transmissions, Redeye graced the airwaves once again to usher in the last challenge of the Gauntlet.

“It's almost time! After a run like that, this ought to be the best slaughter yet! Are ya degenerates ready?!” The crowd erupted in renewed cheers. “Let’s enjoy the first vic we got since the new Overboss took over. Can ya believe it?!” The crowd responded with aggravated booing and howling. “Well, the wait is over and the slaughter has begun!”

The small metal door opened, revealing a terrifying opponent. Overboss Blaze stepped into the arena in slow lumbering steps, revealing the glory of their power armour. It was a design that MacCready did not recognize. It definitely looked newer than the T-45 and T-51 models he was used to, and it was bulkier than the top of the line T-60 model. Whatever this Power Armor was, it wasn't a common model in any way, shape, or form. Nevertheless, the ominous presence of the blood caked armor had the mercenary shuddering. 

MacCready’s eyes were trained onto the Overboss that had simply walked into the arena, no weapon in hand. The crowd had even stopped screaming, awaiting the first move from either party with baited breath. The mercenary slowly reached for his sniper rifle on his back, making sure to keep his eyes on the predator in front of him. Inexplicably, the Overboss was completely immobile, simply standing there with clenched fists. It wasn’t difficult for MacCready to get his aim square on the power armour’s helmet. Still, Robert didn't shoot right away. Cold sweat formed on his brow as he prolonged the stalemate. He took in deep breaths to steel his nerves. Whatever the Overboss had in mind, there was no way for the mercenary to catch a glimpse of their intentions.

MacCready fired a round directly into Overboss Blaze’s helmet. Lowering his gun, Savior, his eyes grew wide in disbelief. The helmet didn’t even have a single scratch on it. 

“You,” the robotic voice of the Overboss resonated in the arena. “You stand no chance. Give up.”

Robert snarled in response. Giving up meant death. 

“I do not wish to kill you,” the raider boss clarified. “Become my trader and you shall live.” Blaze threw a collar at MacCready’s feet.

It didn’t take much more than a glance for the mercenary to recognize the device. It was a slave collar like he had encountered in his youth in the Capital Wasteland. Memories rushed through his mind of a deal he had made with a vault-dweller while he was the mayor of Little Lamplight. Some of the kids had been kidnapped and taken as slaves. They all sported the same kind of collar, a devilish device that kept an iron grip on its victims neck with both a strong latch and an explosive that could be tripped by the slave master or by tampering with the collar itself. At the sight of the device, a rictus formed on Robert’s face. 

“Please understand that it is the only way you shall leave this arena alive,” the overboss explained in a monochord synthesized voice.

“I’d rather die!”

MacCready fired multiple rounds into the power armoured enemy, refusing the fate that had been dealt out to him. After all, he had never really been one for accepting fate, refusing to let his child die, refusing to give in to despair and refusing to live a life of mediocrity in the Capital Wasteland. Even while assailed by a flurry of bullets, Overboss Blaze did not move much. Only their arm truly moved to reach their hip. They pulled out a customized baseball bat adorned with rockets and circular blades, a truly deadly melee weapon. 

The mercenary dove behind the carcass of a long abandoned bumper car to reload his sniper rifle while listening to the lumbering steps of his opponent closing onto his position. The raider audience cheered and screamed for the Overboss to murder Robert in the most gruesome way possible. MacCready decided to take a deep breath and think of how to defeat his enemy. Evidently, bullets weren’t the best way to go. Recalling the time he went out into the Glowing Sea with Gwendolyn, he knew that a good way to incapacitate a power armour is to simply cut into any of the breathing tubes or leathery heavy duty fabric connecting the joints of the armour together. Unfortunately, that would put him in melee reach but what choice did he truly have at this point. He was injured from surviving the Gauntlet and teetering over the edge of complete exhaustion. Taking the plunge, he discarded his rifle in favor of the combat knife that was strapped to his leg.

He sprinted away from his hiding spot, weaving in and out of the barricade of discarded bumper cars that encircled the center of the arena. His objective was to place himself behind his enemy to slash away at the more fragile parts of the power armor that stared him down. As he ran, the Overboss slowly rotated their head, evidently following his movements with ease. To try to gain the upper hand, MacCready kept his race erratic, taking sudden turns when he would be out of his target's line of sight until, finally, it seemed like Overboss Blaze had fallen behind in their observation. They had adopted a defensive position, keeping their baseball bat close to their chest. 

The mercenary grabbed this opportunity wholeheartedly, diving into the sand circle in the middle of the arena, knife at the ready. Alerted by this sudden movement, the Overboss laboriously spun on their heel, a movement that was both sluggish and difficult to accomplish in power armor. Robert lunged towards the Overboss's exposed left leg and slashed at the fabric that created the left knee's articulation. Using his ankle as a stop block, he aborted his course to the left and sprung to the right, attempting to slash at the tubes connecting the Overboss's helmet to the battery pack attached on their back. His attack now accomplished, MacCready took a good number of steps back to keep his weakened body out of his assailant's weapon's range. 

Robert panted heavily, out of breath from his movements, eyes trained onto the sand below. As his head came back up, he felt his heart stop beating. The knee joint and the tube he had slashed didn't even sport a single scratch. 

A loud robotic sigh chirped over the Overboss's helmet speakers, as if both they were annoyed yet pitying the futile efforts of their prey. 

"As I told you, you cannot defeat me," the low robotic voice reiterated. "You have one last chance to accept my offer. Take. It."

MacCready clenched his teeth. He patted at his pockets, unconsciously looking for a miracle solution to his predicament. If Savior couldn't scratch the armor and slashing at its weak points also didn't give him any sort of advantage, there was nothing in his limited arsenal that could truly help him. Yet, he had an outstanding desire to survive etched deep within him that kept him from giving up, from letting his body hit the ground here and now. His shaking fingers clutched an inhaler of what had to be Jet, the long time friend of the wasteland gunslinger.

*********************************

Just like the riveted crowd of psychopaths perched in the bleachers of the Nuka Car Arena, Porter Gage observed the fight with great interest. He had to stifle his raucous laugh at how one-sided the combat truly was. The man, no, the _boy_ , facing off against Nuka World's greatest killer was certainly entertaining to watch struggle, if not just for how pathetic his efforts were. From behind the glass window in front of the control panel, the one eyed raider could see the vic tremble and sweat like a lost puppy. There was nothing intimidating or of any value whatsoever to be glanced from this Gauntlet survivor, he taught. Why the Overboss would even make him into a trader was a complete mystery. 

Then it hit him. What if this lamentable weakling had been an acquaintance of the boss before they came to Nuka World? After all, Blaze came from the Commonwealth as well… but after all they had went through, how could the boss really be revealing a weakness for the people of the Commonwealth now?! Gage knew that the boss's position was still precarious and that the political situation between the raider gangs was strenuous at best despite Blaze's fantastic work. They had, together, exterminated all the wretched lowlifes that infested the park, retaking it all in the name of the raider gangs and yet, those ingrate degenerates still found more things to complain about on a daily basis. Porter slammed his fist into the control panel he was responsible for, angered at Overboss Blaze's actions. If the boss painted such a blatant target on their back by taking in this acquaintance as a trader, there was no way to know what kind of devious plans Mason, Mags Black or Nisha could think up to topple Blaze's authority. And if the boss became a viable target, Gage would also become one as well.

Suddenly, gunshots rang out once more from within the arena. The vic had inhaled a full cartridge of Jet to heighten his senses and steady his aim. Using this newfound energy, he had begun firing in the plexiglass entrapping him, probably to try to pierce the plastic like barrier and escape. Overboss Blaze tried to stop him by grabbing the vic's body to no avail. The drug coursing through the man's veins rendered him even more agile than he already was, helping him dodge out of the boss's way. Porter Gage saw a disgruntled frown trace itself along the vic's face, followed by the barrel of a sniper rifle pointing his way.

The man fired into the glass window separating Gage from the action, shattering it. The raider barely had time to duck before shrapnel showered him, some glass pieces flying towards him with enough velocity to plant themselves into his flesh. His face received a good number of cuts as well. The audience howled in surprise at the turn of events, rejoicing in the violence they were witnessing.

"Fucking hell," Porter angrily exclaimed.

The boss, distracted by his scream, turned their head to see their raider accomplice covered in glass and blood.

"Gage!", they yelled out in return. 

The one eyed raider got back to his feet to show his boss he was alright. As he did so, he shouted out at Blaze to watch their back.

*********************************

The chems rushing through MacCready's blood eroded his rationality at an alarming pace. Jet pulsed through his veins, demanding violence and victory against his enemy. He ran towards the power armored raider and leapt into their back, grasping at tubes and latches like a rabid animal.

Overboss Blaze gasped in disbelief. They attempted to reach back at MacCready, metallic hands brushing against his body like maws of death incarnate. Each contact with his drugged body sent a jolt of electrified energy through him, renewing his attacks on the power armor's chassis. Finally, with tremendous force, he was able to unlatch part of the helmet's anchoring system. A jet of oxygen sprouted from the newly unclamped portion of machinery, making MacCready recoil from its force. In retaliation, Blaze turned around with enough rapidity and torque to cause the mercenary to be flung back onto the ground. 

Robert's back hit the sand with such strength that his lungs saw their air exhaled. Unable to catch his breath, he struggled to move around, crawling along the ground towards a bumper car, seeking refuge from the enraged raider boss that was quickly approaching him. Their loud steps shook the arena, rhythmically punctuating the audience's curdling screams of delight. The jet leaving the mercenary's system gave way to despair. With bloody fingernails, MacCready writhed until his feet were able to lift him up once more. Unfortunately, it wouldn't last. The moment he stood up, the Overboss's baseball bat connected with his abdomen. The tremendous swing propelled him against the plexiglass dome, stealing his breath yet again. He felt himself slump onto the ground, blood running from his mouth and nose, his lower ribs devastated. If it had not been for Blaze using the side of the weapon instead of the baseball bat's blades and rockets, MacCready would have died from his entrails being torn apart. He tried to raise his left hand to his mouth to catch some freshly coughed up blood but his body refused to cooperate. His red humor ran down his chin, his eyelids felt too heavy to control. His consciousness left his broken body sprawled onto the blood red sand.

*********************************

Overboss Blaze put away their baseball bat when they confirmed that their opponent wasn't going to be able to get up any time soon. Robotic heaving cracked to life from their off-kilter helmet. After a moment, Blaze relaxed their stance and glanced at Porter Gage. 

The raiders witnessing the event screamed and chanted, demanding the Overboss murder their downed opponent. Porter already knew the boss wouldn't do such a thing, having made it clear that they didn't want to eradicate the boy that had shown up unannounced to Nuka-World. He bit his chapped lip, anticipating the shit storm about to crash down onto the Nuka-Car arena. 

"Gage", called out the Overboss.

"Yeah boss?"

"We're done here. Get them out of here."

"How the fuck do you expect me to do that, boss," the raider retorted, a hand on his hip.

Overboss Blaze huffed heavily in response. They adjusted their helmet and turned towards the riot-ready audience.

"GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE," the boss's robotic voice ordered the bloodthirsty raiders in the audience. Blaze's demand was met with furious howling from the Disciples and Pack raiders. The Operators on the other hand obeyed, their black and silver silhouettes making a tactful retreat. 

"FUCK OFF," the boss shrieked at the remaining audience members. In due time, the entire arena was evacuated, leaving Porter Gage and Overboss Blaze to deal with the dying young man. 

Blaze crouched down in the sand, pawing about and raising an alarming amount of dust into the air. The particles pricked Gage's lungs, making him swear and cough. 

"Fucking hell, boss. Just lemme get that for ya"

The power armored boss rose from the sand, their visor throwing daggers at Porter's one good eye. It didn't take long for him to find the slave collar his partner was so frantically searching for. 

"So, what's the plan boss," Gage inquired.

"Let's make him into a market trader."

"Mason's not gonna be happy with that. Ya know how he keeps crying about not having enough traders for his sick fucking games."

"Mason can suck my fat fucking dick," the boss spat in return. Gage pinched the bridge of his nose. _Don't let the fucking savage hear ya, boss._

Blaze picked up the sniper rifle the vic had abandoned in their efforts against them. They inspected the weapon, tracing the aluminum stock with their metallic fingers. Despite the power armor helmet that hid their face, Gage could tell his boss was doing that nostalgic look they have whenever they looted a sniper rifle. Porter had inquired as to why they kept acting that way but his questions fell on deaf ears.

"You sure about all this, boss," he asked the hulking figure once more, the slave collar in hand.

"Yes"

"Alright, you the boss," he chimed in as he usually did when he disapproved of Blaze's decisions. 

Gage pulled up the vic's head by his hair to reveal his neck. The slave collar easily ensnared the guys throat with a satisfying click as it latches closed. A red light came to life on the front panel of the contraption to indicate the bomb it contained was armed and ready. 

Porter took this chance to analyze the vic's face. The man, while young, had fairly deep wrinkles accentuating his features. On top of the scruffy hair and unkept beard, this vic easily looked twice what Gage thought his actual age was. He also had a slightly crooked nose and many thin scars sprinkled here and there on the sun burned skin. _This kid is definitely a gunslinger. He doesn't have enough shit going on in his face to be a contact brawler._ The raider then turned his attention to the rest of his body, taking in just how thin and emaciated this vic was. _Well shit, it's kind of a miracle that this kid even made it all the way here._ Porter Gage closed off his analysis, remaking under his breath how there was no way this vic now turned trader would survive more than a week in Nuka-World. 

Overboss Blaze's figure approached the raider from behind, casting an intimidating shadow over both him and the unconscious vic. Gage got up and moved aside, guessing that Blaze wanted to take a look at the slave collar. Instead he was met with surprise as he observed the large metallic frame reach down and hoist up the body into an uncharacteristically tender hold. The vic seemed comfortably nestled in Blaze's cradling arms.

With a tilt of their head, the Overboss indicated the way for Gage to follow. They exited the Nuka-Car arena and walked heavily amongst the curious onlookers. Traders pretending to do their work spied on the boss from the corner of their eyes. Raiders either glared in silence or booed as Blaze passed by. The boss didn't seem to care at all. They kept up their lumbering pace towards the Nuka-Town market, a fortified haven in the middle of the main park. 

Porter, of course, walked behind his boss, gun at the ready. This is how they normally did things. He was used to watching their back while the power armor took most of the beatings in the front of their formation. Any self-respecting raider craved the violence that came with running into danger head first but not him. Gage was much more at home with a subordinate role that kept him away from a direct assault. 

The procession eventually made it to one of the many doors leading into the market. Gage stepped out from behind Blaze's back to open up the red stained door in one powerful kick. It violently swung open, to the dismay of the traders within. They all made way for the Overboss, some even bowing slightly as both a mark of respect and a way to avoid eye contact with the almighty boss. Blaze made a beeline for the first stall on their right, a derelict shack manned by a shaggy haired and now nervous woman. Gage recognized her as the main doctor of the compound but, since she was a trader, he had not taken the time or the care to remember her name. All he knew is that he often went to her for additional supplies, mostly at Overboss Blaze’s request.

"Hey there, uhm, Overboss", she stammered, visibly upset at Blaze's sudden appearance.

The boss's cracked to life. "I need you to take care of him," they indicated with a nod.

"Yes Overboss Blaze!"

The hulking figure gently put down the somewhat mangled body of the newest Nuka-World trader onto a bed that normally served for surgeries. They took a moment to look upon the young man, making the woman in charge of the stall even more nervous. She gulped audibly.

"Make sure he gets your best medication," the boss instructed further.

"Uhm, of course. Whatever you want, Overboss."

They nodded in response. They got back to their feet, taking great care as to not bump into any of the various buckets and barrels filled with various items strewn about the market. The traders that reside there returned to their duties with heavy sighs.

As they left the market and made their way towards the Fizztop Grille, Porter Gage replayed the events of this day over and over in his mind. He found himself both alarmed and furious at the Overboss. 

_ What the fuck was all of this about. This can't be good. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, I'm back from the Shadow Realm once again. It took me forever to write this chapter. It's been in the worst for.... SHIT, it's been almost a YEAR. I'm so sorry! 2020 just killed my creativity and I haven't been able to write more than a few lines every now and then that whole time. On top of that, I kept changing my mind as to where this narrative was going and what would be the major plot points and everything...  
> Regardless, chapter 5 is finally here. I hope you enjoy it. EDIT: I don't know how to count and called this chapter 6 like a dumbdumb  
> Hopefully it won't take this long to upload again.


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